#and the only reason shes been around so long was from her being around a bunch of ppl for a while when she first died | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginespazzi · 1 day ago

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Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas)

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it.

Until now.

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi.

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life.

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests.

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest.

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama.

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too.

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet.

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything.

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at.

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose.

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely.

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily.

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues.

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps.

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first.

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck.

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much.

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want.

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew.

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls.

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks.

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways.

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt.

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead.

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags.

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt.

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face.

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors.

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her.

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde.

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.”

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms.

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing, “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can.

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing.

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it.

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth.

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago.

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing.

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach.

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever.

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly.

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing.

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone.

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly.

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning.

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing.

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in.

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery.

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips.

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply.

Good morning Paigey <3

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply.

I miss you baby.

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead.

I love you Paige.

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her.

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream.

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return.

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette.

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch.

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief.

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts.

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone.

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips.

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed.

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest.

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still.

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?”

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face.

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight.

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend.

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree)

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder.

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer- and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it.

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt.

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head.

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy.

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder.

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips.

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless.

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other.

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender.

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot.

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears.

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them.

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year.

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you)

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids.

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek.

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever.

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it.

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents.

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister.

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder.

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is.

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one.

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is.

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention.

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask.

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one.

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands.

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest.

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart.

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves.

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing.

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols.

“Open it,” Azzi says softly.

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands.

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding.

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words.

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.”

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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morgue-friends · 12 hours ago

Text

"A Maiden's Token" | Count Orlok x Female! Reader

Warnings: dub-con, count orlok is his own warning, blood kink, penis in vagina sex, sexual tension, creampie, oral (f receiving), death is mentioned, no aftercare, reader probably has stock-holm syndrome.

Fourteen days, that's how long you've been here. That's how long you've been left on your own every daybreak and then expected to entertain death itself every evening. As the sunset on the snowy horizon, you made your way back into the castle, dragging your tattered dress by what remained left of it through the snow. Upon entry, you were shocked to see that the fireplace was still lit. Occasionally, it would flicker out during sunset as if the castle consciously knew a force of darkness would be awakening.

With a sigh, you lifted your dress and dropped down by the fireplace suddenly out of breath. Maybe it was the consistent blood loss or the freezing temperatures of the European mountains that you were succumbing to. As far as you knew, he hadn't given you any reason to believe that you'd have an extended stay at the castle. At the end of the day, your chances of reaching the next morning relied solely on the temperament of a man. Your mother had taught you well enough about men to know that when they get bored, they tend to move on.

You felt the presence of tears threatening to depart from your eyes as you thought of your poor mother. She must be so worried and heartbroken. Ever since the two of you arrived in Europe after leaving America, her overprotectiveness of you has grown enormously. When you told her of a Count from a neighboring country requesting your services for painting a self-portrait of him within his own castle, she warned you against going and you decided to shelve away her concerns as mere fairytales. You gripped the silver locket necklace hanging around your neck for security and sighed. Your mother had gifted you this locket on your most recent birthday, and holding it helped you think of all your fondest memories with her.

Now, here you sit, sleep deprived and undernourished. He left you only bread, some grapes, wine, and a bucket of water. You were thankful for the water as you refused to be inebriated in your current situation. It was almost shocking to see he had the decency to have the water refilled each day, but you knew it was only because he'd hate to let his food source run dry.

Suddenly, you were startled when you heard the pouring of wine into a goblet behind you. You hadn't even heard him ascend up the stairs of the castle, and yet there he was in his full glory at the head of the dining table. Now, whether he did ascend the stairs and walk right past you or he simply just appeared at the table was something only god himself would know.

"You have been crying." The Count's thick accent hung heavy in the air, his voice sending a rippling wave of goosebumps over your skin. The tone of his voice was accusatory and not at all sympathetic. Even with English clearly not being his first language, you could hear his overwhelming disappointment. Over the two weeks he's kept you here his English had somewhat improved either by hearing you speak it whether you were asking to excuse yourself to find somewhere to use the bathroom in the empty bucket he gave you. Or from your begging and pleading for him to just let you go home.

Your cold hands desperately wiped the tears from your eyes, and you stood to your feet. He watched you approach the elegant dining table, and you took your seat as far as you could away from him. It was painfully obvious that this night would go just about the same as every other night. You two would intensely stare at eachother while you'd ate your bread for dinner, he'd make you get up and walk to the guest bedroom where he'd make you strip naked and feed from you and then you'd pass out from the pain and awake in the morning to the Count missing and nowhere to be found.

It wasn't even like he needed to feed from you. From your understanding, as he explained it, he'd go into the nearby village and 'have his fill' after he had siphoned a small amount from you. It made you feel like some kind of appetizer or twisted desert for him to be keeping you alive this long. Even with his figure shrouded in darkness, you could still tell by his posture that he was growing impatient with waiting for you to finish your 'dinner'. It was almost like the flickering flame of every candle avoided his very figure as if the fire itself was scared of this entity.

When you finally finished, you stood up from the table and waited till he rose from his seat before you allowed him to lead you to the guest room. You had gotten so used to his grotesque heavy breathing that when he suddenly stopped, the silence was deafening.

"You are crying again." At least when he said it this time, he sounded somewhat amused. It was like he knew that you've accepted your fate and that there wasn't anything you or god could do about it. The door to the guest room opened slowly without him having to touch the handle, and you stepped inside, fingers already loosening the ties of your corseted dress. "Forgive my tears, my Lord." You cringed at the title you gave him. Of course, an entity this dark would be so egotistical to have you address him as a Lordship. You had wondered if this kind of evil was something that would come from inside someone or from the beyond.

"Why would I need to forgive such fragility? You are a human girl. It is in your nature to be weak and fragile." A vein could have popped in your forehead, and you wouldn't have even known it. His words made you seethe and boil with anger, you had to bite your tongue so hard not to say anything that would get him to eviscerate you on the spot.

"Ah, there she is, my cochetă, my minx, be angry so that all your blood may flow freely." Your body winced at the nickname he gave you. He had called you it frequently rather than your real name. Even when you had unknowingly signed away yourself to him in a contract, he addressed you only by 'cochetă' which he explained was romanian for Minx since you weren't at all fluent with the language yet. You dropped your dress and undergarments off in a chair away from that bed so that you may spare it from any more trauma. After taking your seat on the bed, you draped the blood-stained blanket over your shoulders in an attempt at making you feel like you haven't soiled your modesty.

"I have seen all you have to offer. You will not hide from my eyes." With in an instant, you removed the blanket, not from your own will but because he compelled you to do so. Another tear fell down the side of your face, and this one he wiped away with the side of one of his long pointed nails. Your head fell back onto the mattress, and the Count leaned over you and dropped his face to below your exposed left breast. His breath against your skin felt like ice, and you shut your eyes in order to brace for the pain that never came.

Instead of the feeling of two fanged teeth penetrating your heart, you felt the knuckle of one of his fingers brush against your clit and your back arched. Your eyes widened, and you sat up to meet his stare. There he stood, completely unafflicted by your reaction. In fact, it was almost as if you were the one who did something wrong. Impulsively, a heat pooled in your lower abdomen, it's warmth radiating down your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to catch your breath and calm yourself down. What he did to you was only causing a natural response from your body, and you had no control over such responses.

Nonetheless, you still felt the urge to mentally shame yourself for being a such sinful whore who's body responds like that to the touch of something - someone so heinous. It was almost as if the devil himself had cursed you with such blasphemy with the way your nipples hardened to a peak and your thighs squeezed together, trying to prevent you losing yourself to sin any further.

You didn't even open your eyes back up when you felt his cold hand grab a hold of one of your thighs, you were then pulled further down the mattress closer to the edge of the bed and to him. A hand that was so cold that it felt like it was devoid of any life and any warmth worked it way up your chest and grabbed one of your breasts. You bit your lip to hold back a gasp when the peak of your nipple was rubbed back and forth by his thumb. It wasn't until you felt the contact of his mouth around one of your nipples that your eyes shot wide open.

You looked down to see that he had your left breast peaked in his mouth while he suckled on your nipple. Your body betrayed you once again, and that heat you were feeling at your core seemed to grow much hotter. A swipe of his cold tongue against your nipple made you look down again, and you got a good look at the head of the man doing this to you. He had since discarded his hat in the dining room, and now you have a much closer look at the spirit you were dealing with. The back of his head was rotten and decayed even under the several thin tufts of brown hair on his head. It felt like you were looking at a corpse of a man that should have been locked far away in a coffin in the depths of hell.

You weren't even paying attention when a hand parted your thighs and brought attention back to your clit, he pulled back the hood and started rubbing slow deliberate circles around it, being mindful of his claws. He switched to your right breast, and at this point, there was no use controlling your gasps and whimpers anymore. He was so gentle with you. Maybe this was foreshadowing that tonight would be the night he'd finally get rid of you, and this was just him rubbing salt in the wounds and making the evening last as long as possible. He'd never touched your nether regions before, but when he fed from the blood of your heart, he'd often rub his hands around your waist as if he was mockingly consoling you the way a lover would.

The hairs of his thick mustache tickled your nipple and you weren't ready for when he dragged downward a long lick from your breast, to over your stomach and then finally stopping at the mound between your legs. You exhaled deeply when he resumed and dragged his blackened tongue down your slit, getting a taste of your wetness in his mouth. This wasn't something you should be enjoying, just the symphony of approving noises that left your lips made you feel appalled with yourself. It wasn't until you felt his lips lock around your clit that you became heavy lidded and utterly defeated.

You settled with the idea that he's being so cautious with you because he's going to make you reap what you sowed when it was time for him to experience his own pleasure. And regardless of how good he made you feel in this very moment, you still hated him. He tricked and imprisoned you in this hellish imitation of a castle. He left you alone and unattended during the day, allowing a pack of wolves to ensure you never take your leave. It was because of him that your mother was a several weeks journey away, worried sick about you, and you weren't even sure if you'd ever see her again.

You were on the verge of crying again until he rose to his feet, his figure demanding your full attention. His clawed hands fiddled with the buttons of his trousers, and your breath hitched. The hefty fur cape he wore would frequently would drape over his frame and seculde him in almost total darkness. You never knew what his daily wear looked like since he seemed content in hiding in the shadows of your vision only to reveal slightly more of himself to you when he fed from your body. What came to your vision when he glanced back at you was the erect bulbous head of his cock. It was engorged and jutted upward toward the ceiling as if it demanded your gaze on it.

He crept closer to you, staring intensely as if trying to gauge your state of mind, trying to see whether you were going to fight or flee. Instead, you just allowed your head to fall back onto the mattress. It was pointless to do either of those, and deep down in the darker realms of your subconscious, this behavior from him was welcomed. When the head of his thick member prodded at your entrance, your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes tightly.

Instead of thrusting inside, he thrusted his shaft upward, dragging it along your slit to coat himself in your wetness. When the shaft slid up against your clit you couldn't help but mewl out, still feeling that knot in your lower belly that was just waiting to be undone. When he finally seized the moment to thrust inside you, your eyes shot open, burning and stinging with tears. The Count let out what sounded like an inhuman hiss as his length seeped into your heat, inch by inch. The stretch was almost unbearable. It felt like you were being split right down the middle into two halves of yourself, and you weren't sure what half you pitied more. Your mouth opened to make a noise, but nothing came out. Such an intrusion of this nature left your throat speechless and strained. He pulled his hips back, and a clawed hand shot up to your face and held you in place upon his re-entry.

Those pointed nails of his were so sharp it felt like you had needles digging into your skin. Beads of red came into your vision dripping down your face from how much pressure those thick claws of his put into your flesh. When you tried to snatch your face away from his hand, he only pulled out and thrust into you more harshly. The squelching noise your cunt made around his length felt nothing short of sinful. To your disbelief, you learned he still had more of his shaft left to give you when he pushed himself further inward to the hilt. The thick head of his cock struck your cervix like hammer and a painful cramping sensation followed behind it. He hummed a noise of satisfaction as if he was he was impressed you were able to take all of him to the hilt.

Your breasts bounced on your chest when he roughly pulled out entirely only to shove himself back in. You gave a whine in response, and it was only then that he had seemingly guaged a fine line of pleasure and pain for you. Adjusting himself, he started up a pace of feverent rutting that made your legs tremble pitifully around his waist. The pressure of his hand on your face left when he leaned over to get a taste of the clotted blood that dotted across your forehead. His body was so much larger than your own that he had to contort himself over you to be able to taste the crimson he created and be able to continue his rutting.

The frequent movement of your body from the impact of his hips against yours was beginning to loosen that knot you felt in your belly. Your moans grew louder, and so did the beating of your heart against your rib cage. Inducing this creature to feed from you because your heart enticed him was the last thing you needed right now. The pace of his thrusts harshened, and so did the primal look he had in his eyes. Having him over you and staring at you like this, as if he were a lion and you were a weak gazelle soon to be eaten. For such an entity of darkness, he had such expressive eyes, sometimes they were so black you could see your reflection. Sometimes, they were so white and cloudy, you'd wonder where he had come from, heaven, hell, or neither.

"Please..." You weren't quite sure what you were begging for, but in your heart, it felt like it was for release. Release from the built-up pressure in your belly, release from the castle, or even release from life itself. Your hand reached up, and you cupped the flesh of his face. His skin was so cold, so rotten, and yet there was a feeling of life as if there was perhaps a soul present, but you knew better. There wasn't any life within him, as he was death itself. There was no soul within him, as he claimed the souls of others.

The closer his body, his cock, brought you to this peak of of pleasure that you pleaded for, the wider the smile grew on your face. A smile that didn't go unnoticed as his lips claimed the skin of your neck in what felt like possessive kisses. Perhaps this union of flesh solidified the extent of your stay at the castle through your own submission and your yield to the power he had over you. Those kisses trailed up to your own lips, and you tasted death from his mouth to yours. You tasted your own blood from him, and you tasted his hatred and his darkness, and yet you no longer had fear for it. With a painful clench of your walls, you came undone, your release washing over you in thick waves.

The spasming, clenching, and squeezing of your canal made the already deep and ragged breaths he took erratic, as did his rutting a few quick snaps of his hips and you felt a spurt of cold fluid inside you. The chill of it rose up your spine as it felt as if death itself had released into you. A deep animalistic growl vibrated off of the stone walls around you and bounced around in your skull. When he removed himself from you, you felt the remainder of his spent coat your inner thighs.

You looked away as you sat up on your own elbows, trying to balance yourself, and when you looked up, expecting to meet the eyes of a starving beast, you were met with an empty room. He had left you, spared you even. You couldn't imagine the type of carnage and havoc he'd wreak upon those villagers tonight. Reaching up to clutch your necklace for security and your hands found nothing but skin. He was gone and had taken your necklace with him. He took it as if you had bestowed upon him the honor of having a maiden's token.

#horror x reader #monster x reader #nosferatu x reader #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #bill skarsgård #vampire x reader #vampire x human

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penny-anna · 11 hours ago

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travelling home after christmas today

checking my tickets this morning to make sure everything is in order. realise i somehow booked a 2-stage journey with a change at Doncaster rather than a direct ticket.

aw fuck. :(

report this to my sister who suggests trains might not be running as usual. assure her that it's definitely my fault

arrive at station. my train is at 13:03. there is also a direct Edinburgh train at 13:00. longingly watch the direct train depart. :(

my train is somehow running 5 minutes late in spite of starting at King's Cross?? wym you're running late. you haven't been anywhere.

anyway this is a problem bcos i only have 11 minutes to change at Doncaster.

train also doesn't start boarding until maybe 2 minutes before scheduled departure. there are around 200 people trying to board. we are not leaving at 13:08.

finally leave at around quarter past. yeah i am not making this connection. i didn't have a seat reserved so no great loss.

notice that the app now says my connecting train is delayed due to 'overcrowding'. ehh i don't think i want to get that train anyway.

the connecting train isn't delayed enough for my to catch it. phew, i think, bullet dodged!!

the next train to Edinburgh arrives. it was also delayed leaving Kings Cross for the same unclear reasons as my original train. it's booked solid but the screen says there are seats available in coach C so off i go.

attempt to board the train. the vestibule is so full of people that im honestly not sure i can fit.

manage to fit. oh fuck. oh this is not a good train to be on.

various people are scouting out coach C in seach of seats and come back without. decide to make a trip myself as they were a couple and i'm a lone traveller so might have more success.

i have my big rucksack on + an extra bag so im just barging my way through there. there's people standing in the aisle. way unpassable.

return to the vestibule.

someone has left a very large buggy in the vestibule, unfolded, seemingly abandoned, unbelievably in the way.

someone suggests that we could fold the buggy. everyone agrees this is a good idea but no-one is the buggy's owner.

i ask if anyone knows who the buggy belongs to and someone points to a woman halfway down the carriage, beyond a bunch more standing people.

people are needing to get through to the bathroom. attempt to put myself on the other side of the buggy to clear a path. almost get stuck bcos w all my bags i am just so so large.

manage to get to the other side of the buggy and take off my backpack so i'm not taking up so much space. add my backpack to the luggage piled in front of the luggage rack.

someone returns from the adjoining vestibule with news of more space for luggage, suggests we move the buggy

collectively manage to get the buggy's owner over. she tells us she is travelling alone with 5 children. now feel kind of bad about being annoyed by the buggy.

buggy is too wide to go to the next vestibule without being folded. she say she can't fold it because it's got bags in it and there's nowhere to put the bags.

it's pointed out that she can put the bags in the other luggage rack where there is (apparently) more space. the buggy is removed and we all have space to actually move around.

my rucksack is at constant risk of fallling off the luggage pile and it's on the other side of the carriage door so not much i can do. another passenger is kindly keeping it in place for me.

also a problem w standing on long haul trains is that they are just not designed for it so there's nowhere to hold on and i almost fall into people several times.

okay we are coming up on York. maybe, i think optimistically, a bunch of people will get off at York (it's a big station) and things will improve

ohh god things do not improve

more people pile into the vestibule including a couple with a very large suitcase and a baby

suitcase has nowhere to go except the middle of the corridor. couple debate whether they should just get off the train and find alternative transport. woman says (reasonably) that she doesn't want to stand holding the baby for 3 hours to Edinburgh.

before they can come to a conclusion the train leaves

predictably the vestibule is now home to a crying baby

a man comes out of the coach w a bag from the buffet service. asks politely if he can get through so he can go back to his seat.

oh we are SO sorry but you are going to be here a while :(

manage to get my rucksack properly onto the luggage rack :)

after a while the man w the buffet car bag says that at the next station he's going to get off the train and back on at the next entrance in hope of getting back to his seat

we wish him godspeed. he gets off the train. never see him again. i hope he made it.

we are now not far from Durham. very large man w a very large bag comes through, smacks everyone with his bag, and then almost dislodges my backpack taking his suitcase out from underneath it

announces confidently which side the train doors will open on.

ok we have a shot here. on my previous recce i noticed a whole group of seats marked reserved to Durham. tell myself that i must act swiftly and decisively when we get to Durham.

by this point im having significant foot pains from too much train standing.

we arrive at Durham. the big group mentioned leaves and then a reshuffle commences

family of 5 kids mentioned previously (remember them??) are moving to take over the vacated table. observing events it looks like there's going to be 1 free seat left.

there's 2 people closer to the seat and i can't just barge past them BUT they are together. ask if one of them wants the seat.

they do not want the seat!!

move swiftly & decisively to take the seat.

it is covered and i mean covered in popcorn but i will take what i can get at this stage.

from beneath the seats me and some other helpul passengers retrieve a dropped pair of gloves, a hat and a toy Sonic the Hedgehog which we return to their owners.

finally sit.

take off coat put in eye drops begin drinking delicious 7up i've been carrying since kings cross etc.

at the next stop the person in the other seat leaves and am joined by another of the group from the vestibule. we sit and quietly read our books :3

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comatosebunny09 · 2 days ago

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As a result of watching more dramas, humor me.

You plan to go home for the holidays to spend them with your parents.

Your mother’s been setting you up on blind dates in hopes of eventually finding you a match. She reasons you’re not getting any younger, so it’s time you settle down and start working on a family. Her intentions are good, but you just wish she’d stop badgering you.

You don’t necessarily live the lifestyle where you can afford to have a partner right now.

You work for Onychinus’ leader, Sylus, as an assassin. You’re at the peak of your game, so much so that you’re considered his right hand by his enemies. You also secretly harbor feelings for your boss, but you know they’re fruitless because you think a relationship, let alone with you, is the furthest thing from his mind.

Anyways, you’re drinking at one of Sylus’ bars one evening, venting to him about your mother. He always humors you when you’re not working—you bring a certain flair to his life that he admits makes his days much more entertaining.

“Why don’t I pretend to be your boyfriend, then? Just to get her off your back,” he suggests with an amused crinkle to his eyes, watching you as he sips his whiskey.

You snort incredulously. Sylus and boyfriend are never two words you would imagine fitting in the same sentence. Still, you can’t deny entertaining the idea of what it’d be like to be something…more to him.

You brush him off as just humoring you as usual, snatching your coat from the barstool and fixing your boss with a sardonic smirk.

“Yeah, right. See ya around, bossman.”

Your flight home leaves first thing in the morning. As much as you would like to stick around to shoot the shit with him, you need your rest to deal with your mother come morning.

Fast forward, and you’re back in your childhood home. You feel strange, being in your cutesy, innocent bedroom like there isn’t so much invisible blood on your hands and like you haven’t long shed the sheltered skin you once wore when you were younger.

Your parents don’t know the full extent of what you do. They know you make a generous amount of money—you’ve bought them luxurious cars and clothes and sent them on exclusive vacations. You would buy them a plot of land with a beautiful home built from the ground up if they’d let you, but your parents insist on staying where they’re familiar.

An old childhood friend’s having a get-together. Your mother insists you go—this is the perfect opportunity for you to network and possibly find a future husband. Despite your protests, she pressures you, and you begrudgingly agree.

You stick out like a sore thumb, donned in expensive fabrics at the party. Years of being an assassin and seductress have given you the gift of gab, so you’re the life of the party. Eventually, people start inquiring about your love life. Their questions become so invasive you step out momentarily to gather yourself. Just because you’re good at flapping your gums doesn’t mean you don’t occasionally become overwhelmed.

You decide to text Sylus to help ease your anxiety. You text each other quite often, and someone peering at your relationship from the outside would assume you’re just close friends.

[ Sylus ]: that bad?

[ You ]: yeah. they won’t stop asking when i’ll get married.

[ You ]: it’s really pissing me off.

[ Sylus ]: lol

[ Sylus ]: well why dont you leave?

[ You ]: because i know i’ll never hear the end of it.

[ Sylus ]: hmm.

[ Sylus ]: would you like some company then?

[ You ]: 😏😏😏 what are you gonna teleport here or something?

[ Sylus ]: look up.

On cue, you glance skyward as the telltale shadow of a crow circles the ground around you. You squint your eyes against the sun’s brilliance, making out distinct iridescent feathers circling above. “Mephisto?” you suspiciously inquire.

You look down, only to be met with a familiar swatch of scarlet and white. “Sylus?!” you shriek, jumping back and clutching your pounding heart, almost having shit yourself.

He wears that customary smirk, looking so cool with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wears a tailored, dark suit, his blazer hanging off his shoulders, ruffled by the summery breeze. “In the flesh.”

You swallow against the stickiness of your throat, wide-eyed and feeling like you’re dreaming. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sylus examines his nails, his tone conspiratorial. “Well, I was just passing through—”

“Like hell you were!” You aim an accusatory finger at him. “We’re, like, 1,700 miles from the N109! There’s no way you’re just ‘passing through’!”

He shrugs, feigning innocence.

A few of your high schoolmates, summoned by the commotion, gather in the courtyard behind you. The crowd oohs and ahs, whispering as they study your tall, devastatingly handsome boss. One of the women asks who he is, admiration evident in his voice. You know that tone too well: if you don’t claim him, I will.

You swallow your resolve, seizing the opportunity to shut everyone up.

You sidle up to your boss with a fake smile, encircling one of his arms with both of yours, your hands wrapped around his impressive bicep. You cling to him, playing up the theatrics of a docile girlfriend. It makes you sick.

Sylus smiles down at you in your peripheral, the omniscient lift of his brow letting you know that he’s never going to let you live down what next comes from your mouth.

“This is my fiancé!” You pat his chest with a giggle pinched from your lungs, cold dread dropping into your belly.

What the hell are you even doing?

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #just musing #because i waste my days watching c and k-dramas #good ol' pretending to be together only to end up being together trope

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grapejuice32 · 1 day ago

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I hate you, no really, I do

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!reader

Masterlist

Prologue << Part 1 >> Part 2

The first time the two of you hooked up had been at a party at Tannyhill, you had attended it alone, the only reason you had gone being that there would be expensive alcohol present. Rafe had spotted you before you managed to even get onto your second drink and accused you of 'crashing his party' to which you merely scoffed and told him that you didn't see a guest list keeping track of who was and wasn't there so it didn't count as you crashing it.

What you had expected was for him to throw an insult your way, something about you being a Pogue, or just an antagonising comment to try and provoke you. But instead, he laughed, like actually laughed and said 'touche'. Now obviously that surprised you, but what surprised you more was when he asked if you wanted to join him was he pointed to the empty balcony on the second floor of the house. You weren't sure why you nodded, but you did and followed him through the maze like halls of his house till you reached the balcony.

The two of you had stayed up there for the rest of the night, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed as it got later and later, yet you still didn't leave. At the start of the night, his hand had laid next to yours on the railing of the balcony, then his arm was slung over your shoulders, it was then wrapped around your waist and by the time everyone had cleared off he had his hands placed on your hips, slowly drawing you in towards him. As he pulled you closer, you'd trailed your hands up his chest to rest on his broad shoulders, both of you breathing heavily as he'd leant down to press his lips to yours. It had escalated, he pushed your back against the balcony railing as he trailed open mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin and leaving marks that you found the next day, but despite the both of you clearly wanting more, making out was as far as you'd gone. The next morning you'd woken up next to him in his large bed, he had an arm thrown around your waist and his chest was pressed to your back. It was that morning when you joined him in the shower that you had properly hooked up for the first time, he'd pressed your back against the cold, wet tiles of the shower an-

You shook your head, clearing the thoughts from your mind as you washed the conditioner out of your hair and turned the handle on the shower, turning it off. After stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body, leaving your hair as it was to let it air dry, you unlocked your bathroom door and padded your bare feet along the wooden floor of your house towards your bedroom. You turned on your lights and jumped as you saw a figure sat on your bed, "Jesus, Rafe. What the fuck?"

But his lip didn't curl up in amusement as it usually did, instead he just remained sat with his shaved head resting in his palms, his elbows leant on his spread knees. "Rafe?" You asked softly, slightly concerned, "Did something happen?"

" 'S jus' my dad, you know?" he began, not looking up as you walked to stand in front of him, resting your hands on his shoulders, "He's jus' hassling' me, callin' me over n' over, orderin' me around, tellin' me what to do, 's if it's not me that's been handlin' things. 'S me that's been takin' care'f things, not Rose." He still didn't look at you as he continued but he moved his hands to rest on your hips as he rested the top of his head against your stomach, "And he's jus' goin' on and on 'bout Sarah, 's always 'bout her for him, no matter how many times she jus' fuckin' screws us over for John B."

"Rafe." You warned, hating when he he spoke like that about Sarah and John B when he knew they were your friends.

He didn't verbally acknowledge you, but he went silent before he mumbled, " 's just frustrating', you know?"

"I know," you sighed, the two of you had been hooking up for long enough for you to have heard of all the many times that Ward had picked Sarah over Rafe. You constantly tried to tell Rafe that Ward was using him because he knew that Rafe wanted to prove himself, but he wouldn't listen, insisting that Ward was just hard on him because Rafe would take over the company. The both of you went silent and your mind drifted to the cross, you pressed your lips together and looked up at the ceiling, contemplating if you should bring it up, but you did anyway, "Rafe, why won't you give it to us, it belongs to Pope's family." You didn't need to name the object for him to know what you were speaking about.

His grip on your hips tightened and he scoffed, " 'm not fuckin' going talking' about this again. I found it, okay? Me."

"No, we found it first. You know that." You spoke bitterly.

"Yeah, and you left it lying on the fucking floor." He reminded, standing up, his figure now towering over yours as he ran his hands over his head in annoyance.

"Pope was dying Rafe, dying. Of course we fucking left it there! But it's ours, it's his!." You continued to argue, not wanting to let it go. Not after you'd ended up stranded on Poguelandia for that cross.

"Well, 's not my fuckin' fault he was dying is it? Besides, didn't seem like it mattered all that much to him when he was gonna let it get lost in the ocean, did it?" He taunted, not phased when tears of frustration lined your eyes, " 'm not talkin' 'bout this anymore tonight."

You nodded, more to yourself than him, biting the inside of your cheek as you willed the tears not to fall. "Get out."

" 'scuse me?" His voice raised in shock.

"You heard me," you spoke sternly, "I don't want to be around you right now."

He chuckled dryly, " 's right coming' from you. But fine, 's not like I wanna stay in this shit hole longer than I have to. 'S fuckin' disgusting, not that I should've expected any less from a Pogue."

You smiled sarcastically as a stray tear rolled down your cheek at the insult, "Off you go then."

Guilt briefly flashed through him at the sight of you crying but he pushed it away and gave you a tight lipped smile, "Don't need to tell me twice."

That was the last thing he said before he stormed out, slamming your bedroom door behind him, causing you to flinch as you stood there in silence still wrapped in your towel as you listened to the sound of your front door slamming behind him and the sound of his car starting up and driving away. You exhaled a shake breath, your fingers brushing under your eyes to wipe away the tears that had managed to escape. You let your towel drop onto the floor, pulling on underwear and a t-shirt before you climbed into bed and drank from the warm, unfinished beer that you'd started earlier and lit up a joint, prepared to numb away the feelings from the argument. Not that you would admit it had upset you so much, not when you were supposed to hate him, and not when you were sure that he hated you.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

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deadpcnned · 24 hours ago

Text

Sealed by the Storm (jj.m)

chapter three

pairing: jj maybank x reader; marriage of convenience

content warning(s): mentions murder (usual obx stuff), implied sexual relationship, language, use of alcohol

author's note: this one is so long, i'm so sorry hahaha. i'd love to hear y'alls honest feedback

join the taglist | series masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

JJ Maybank was the last person anyone would bet on to follow instructions. So of course, he’d taken matters into his own hands when it came to figuring out if Luke had been telling the truth. After his conversation with Y/N last night, he felt himself descending that familiar downward spiral. JJ had two types of possible spirals. Usually, it felt like a blackout— like he had no control of his actions. That’s the spiral he had when he broke the generator. He’d been reminded of all the nights he’d used that damn first aid kit to patch himself up, back when Luke still owned the house JJ could finally call home, that it had screwed him up so bad he couldn’t think. The second type of spiral, however, was way worse. It was more drawn out, a deep-seated desperation that forced him to ruminate on every word spoken to or by him.

That’s the spiral he’d had last night in bed, a seemingly endless loop going down. He knew he fucked up, he knew he should’ve left well enough alone. He had finally gotten through to Y/N, even if only briefly, and he’d flushed it all down the drain. The way she had laughed when she accidentally shone her flashlight in his eyes, had been so unrestrained, like a bird’s song unburdened by the weight of months spent in captivity. Y/N always laughed like she was choking. Her breath would catch between the sound of her laughter, but JJ found it so endearing. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been yearning to hear that sound until last night and he wanted to be the reason for it again, even if it was at his expense. All it took for him to lose that chance, was five minutes and Y/N was avoiding him again.

To say he was hurt by what she had said to him was barely scratching the surface. His worst, most vulnerable insecurities were somehow always thrown back at him by her. ‘You’re making it worse.’ ‘Why do you always–’ Those words had run through his head again and again and again, all night driving him crazy. Her ability to tap into his negative thoughts was exactly why he always got so irritated around her. Because if he let that bitter wall fall, it’d all be too painful.

That irritation is exactly what had spurred him to pay no mind to Y/N’s advice and discover the answers to his questions alone. The first plan he had thought of consisted of storming to Goat Island and confronting Groff face to face. But, if he was being honest, just the idea of confronting Groff was terrifying. What if Luke had been lying? And worse, what if he hadn’t been?

Instead of confronting Groff, JJ decided to follow a different trail – one that felt no less daunting but less revelatory: Larissa Genrette’s grave. JJ had spent his whole life roaming the island and knew each inch of the land he was raised on. He’d passed the Genrette graveyard many times before. He used to think it was odd, why so much land was dedicated to one family’s burial site, but as time passed he became more aware of what the Genrette name meant. The name had always loomed over the island, a shadow that faded into whispers. Whispered stories and half-truths from people who barely knew the Genrettes, at least not in recent years. The youth of Outer Banks loved to share the ghost story of Larissa Genrette and her lost child for their sleepovers and bonfires. A story that was so close to home, yet so out of their reality, that it didn’t bother them.

JJ wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to see the grave for himself, properly. It felt like maybe he had missed some detail, some answer, during all those years that he carelessly ran past these trails. JJ was still clinging to the belief that this was all an elaborate plan by Luke, but he couldn’t stop some thoughts from crossing his mind that implied he was falling for it. Like the idea that he might be looking at the last link to his mother. Somehow, the fact that Larissa Genrette was his mother, felt like the heaviest part of all of it. He didn’t expect the gravesite to give him some grand revelation, didn’t think the ground would whisper secrets of hidden bloodlines, but it would be something. JJ always felt his sixth sense was strong when it came to people– their intentions and character. The first time he had entered the Genrette house, he had felt something was off, but not in the same way the Pogues had. They had been unnerved by the eerieness, but JJ had felt something else about Groff and Genrette. It was like he could feel the connection he had to them, like there was a string between them, loosening the closer they got.

JJ was getting ahead of himself, he knew that. Imagining metaphysical connections and imagining what it would mean if the Genrettes were his relatives. As he neared the graveyard, the wind pushing his blond hair back, he didn’t know what came next. His feet slowed before he could get close enough to the gate that would serve as an obstacle, goosebumps erupting over his skin.

There was someone following him.

He had felt it closer to the Surf Shop, before he had started walking this way, too afraid to ask John B for the Twinkie in fear of invoking questions. The feeling that he had a shadow had shaken off soon after, but it was back now, in full force, too close for comfort. He needed to take care of that before he could worry about finding answers to any life-changing questions.

JJ slowed his steps, considering his options. He estimated that there was still half a mile left before he reached the gate, but the brick wall that blocked off the graveyard was already on his left. On the right, there were tall trees that he knew became more dense the further in you went. JJ started angling his body towards the right, making a show of planning his turn away from the straight path he’d taken for the last 10 minutes before he veered his body to the right completely.

As the trees grew denser, that feeling of someone following him went in and out, like a spotty connection, but he knew whoever it was was still there. He should’ve run. He was usually so good at running in these situations, but something was stopping him. He was not sure what it was— whether it was the result of the heightened emotions he’d been dealing with for the past couple of days— but he didn’t fight it. If it was the mercenaries after Blackbeard’s treasure, so be it.

When it felt like the mystery person was further away again, he pulled himself around a huge tree so he was hidden behind the trunk. He’d come a far way from the brick wall and his pace had quickened, causing his breathing to get slightly more erratic. He caught his breath while trying his best to not let his focus shift from sensing the other person. After what felt like hours, he heard a crunching sound. The footsteps were quiet which could have been why he couldn’t distinguish it from the sound his boots were making earlier. The footsteps neared on his left and he positioned himself for his ambush. He wished he had his old gun. Or at least a knife.

A figure appeared in his periphery and before the figure could retreat, JJ was pushing off the tree trunk and shoving the person up against the rough bark of another. His hand clamped over their mouth while his opposite arm pressed into their chest, his muscles were taut as he held their body in place. A smaller body. And a familiar one.

Y/N’s eyes widened but quickly returned to normal, concealing her surprise. However, the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath JJ's arm gave away her shock. Her bare skin brushed against JJ’s with every breath, leaving a buzzing sensation with every exhale. Y/N reached up to wrap her fingers around his wrist, prying away his hand from her mouth, but instead of stepping away, JJ leaned in, crowding her body with his.

“What the hell are you doing here?” JJ's jaw clenched adding to the tensions he felt in every other part of his body. He hadn’t wanted to see her today, but especially not now. JJ’s face was so close to hers that he could feel the warmth of his own breath as he spoke.

Y/N’s chin tilted up defiantly and her challenging gaze stoked a fire of rage in his as he heard her reply, “Following you.”

“Why?” His voice was a rasp, entwined with the strain of his frustration. The simple word was all he could get past his straining as he looked at her, not backing away for even a second.

“I told you not to do this alone.” There was no point in pretending he didn’t understand and JJ didn’t feel like he could bother with that anyway. He was so tired of her thinking she knew better than him. She couldn’t bother asking him to pass food at the dinner table, but she was always chock-full of unsolicited advice. This was his fucking family life, why did she get to decide how he handled it?

“Yeah? And you thought what? ‘JJ’d probably appreciate me tagging along?’” JJ leaned in closer, his nose only an inch away from Y/N’s. He caught the moment her breath hitched, just as it had last night, and he was spurred on by whatever this effect he had meant. “You’re the last person I would ever ask to be with me.”

The words were meant to cut, an eye for an eye, a harsh word for a harsh word. But if he had any impact on Y/N at all, she didn’t let it show. Within a second, her knee aggressively struck JJ’s thigh, making him pull back.

“Ouch–” Suddenly, JJ’s back was against the tree Y/N had been pressed against. Y/N didn’t have him strapped against the tree with her arms, but the closeness of her body to his was enough to keep him in place. Her left leg was planted between his and her hip was making contact with his upper thigh. JJ blamed the heat he felt at her touch on his anger. Reaching up, her hand cupped his face, her fingers pressing into both sides of his jaw, as she tilted his head down.

“Trust me JJ, no one wants to be here less than I do.” Y/N’s voice was void of malice, sounding neutral and completely matter-of-fact. “But you can’t do this alone.”

He knew what she meant. She meant that if he handled this alone, the rest of them would have to pick up the pieces of his eventual fallout. He knew that and still, the part of him he tried so hard to suppress read a different meaning. You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll take care of you. If he’s honest with himself, he didn’t want to carry this alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Pogues didn’t get help. They just had to deal with their shit and that’s a lesson JJ had learned much too early, so why bother. That desperate part of him that wanted someone’s help took over and selfishly accepted whatever she would offer.

“Whatever. Just stay out of my way.” It was the best JJ could offer, his anger still right at the surface, fighting against his need for help. Y/N stepped back, her hand sweeping over her backside to clean off any dirt.

“It’s easier to pick up behind someone than in front of them,” She chided. Clenching his fist, JJ turned away, beginning to retrace his steps. He’d wasted fifteen minutes all for it to be Y/N. The two of them walked in silence, not bothering with fake niceties. JJ had too much on his mind.

Y/N tried to focus on the sound of her low-top sneakers pressing against leaves and branches instead of the silence that was enveloping her and JJ. The irony wasn’t lost on her. The boy she had done her best to avoid recently, was now causing herself to second-guess her actions. Y/N never second-guessed herself. She could never afford it. Ever since she joined Terrance, her life relied on her ability to make the right choice with speed and confidence. If she had second-guessed herself for even a second, it could have given some dangerous people a chance to attack.

It was that quality that made it so difficult for her to think twice before she spoke to JJ the way she did. She never felt like she had enough time to make mistakes and when JJ made a mistake, she felt that same crippling anxiety that whatever happened would be life-changing. Y/N hadn’t adjusted to her life in the Outer Banks. For her, it didn’t matter that there were laws and authority figures who would protect her– or at least were assigned to protect her. Y/N sometimes thought she’d always view the world as her against everything else. Well, Cleo and her against everything else, but it didn’t seem like Cleo was having the same struggle with adjusting. Y/N knew she could be mean, but she really really didn’t want to lose this life.

After walking for what felt like forever, a black gate came into view. A black gate that, from what Y/N could tell, led to the Genrette family’s burial plot. She hadn’t asked JJ where they were headed, her head clouded by how close they’d been in the forest and the verbal spat they’d had. This isn’t what she’d expected.

“JJ–”

“Just stay here by the gate while I go in.” JJ’s voice was less stiff, his frustration seeming to have decreased, but he still had that dejected air around him.

“Where – why are we here?” Y/N asked and when JJ didn’t reply she added, “I thought you’d be talking to Groff.” JJ kept his eyes trained to the side, refusing to look at Y/N.

JJ chuckled sarcastically. “Bet you’re feeling silly now.” Y/N pursed her lips but refrained from responding. This wasn’t the time to pick a fight with JJ and she should have thought of that before. At least now, she’d try to be her version of supportive.

“Okay,” Y/N said, starting to move towards the gate again. When they reached the gate, Y/N spoke up again. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Wordlessly, JJ stepped towards the gate, preparing to climb over the barrier. As JJ grabbed onto a rail for support, the gate pushed in with a creek. What… Looking at where She had assumed a lock would be keeping him out, Y/N saw the gate had been opened. Someone else was here.

“Someone’s here,” JJ echoed her thoughts.

“Should we come back?” JJ shook his head and she could see the determination in his eyes. He was going to do this.

“I… I need to do this.” JJ whispered. She understood. She truly did. So she just nodded, reaching up to place her hand against his arm.

“I know.” She hoped he could hear the sincerity and that he understood she did support him in this. He deserved to know the truth about who he was. “I’m right here” JJ gave her a long look, not making any move to go past the gate. “I won’t leave.”

With that, JJ gave her a nod and finally passed the threshold. Y/N couldn’t stop the nagging voice in her mind that kept repeating this was a bad idea. She needed to push past her issues with JJ and support him in this. Good terms or not, they were both Pogues and Pogues took care of each other.

Y/N had planned on waiting patiently for JJ. She had told herself she would give him ten whole minutes before trying to find him in the cemetery to check if he was okay. Yet, within five minutes she heard the sound of someone coming towards the gate. The sound wasn’t from JJ’s workboots. The only place she could find to hide was in the trees, but there weren’t many and she wasn’t sure if she’d be caught. Maybe if she stood far enough away from the gate, whoever was about to leave the cemetery wouldn’t look her way. It was a game of luck and Y/N hated those.

Still, she rushed towards the trees and tried her best to stay hidden. Peering over the edge of the tree trunk, she caught the moment the person left the gates. Groff. She had never liked the feeling she got around Groff. Meeting him had reminded her a lot of her Uncle, which meant it made her skin crawl. Holding her breath, she watched Groff leave the cemetery and turn towards where she was hidden.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Somehow, some stroke of fate led him to walk straight past the trees, his focus on some object in his hands. Y/N let out a sigh of relief and waited for JJ to come back out. He must have talked to Groff.

But no one followed, even as Groff became a speck in the distance. That eerie feeling returned and Y/N ran towards the gate. It seemed Groff wasn’t the forgetful type because he had made sure to lock the gate. Why would he lock JJ in? Y/N needed to get in.

Taking multiple steps away from the gate, Y/N ran towards the iron gate. Gripping onto the metal bars, she used the momentum from her sprint to lift herself. Her shoes hit a narrow horizontal bar and she used it to push off and swing one leg over the top of the gate. She had to be mindful of where she placed her leg, making sure to avoid the pointed tops. Once both her legs were over the top, she used the same bar as a step to climb down and land safely on the other side. Y/N didn’t take a second to catch her breath, rushing to find JJ. He wasn’t around any of the graves, but there was what appeared to be a tomb. A crowbar had been stuck between the handles to keep someone from getting out. To keep JJ from getting out.

“JJ!” Y/N called, walking closer to the tomb. She pulled the crowbar out. As she went to pull the door open, JJ was already tumbling out. “JJ, what happened?”

The blond boy remained silent, his lips in a thin, colorless line. Y/N’s eyes swept over him, taking note of how his usually tanned skin had turned pale. He looked as though he’d seen a ghost and considering her where she was, she wasn’t sure how far from the truth that was.

“JJ, hey,” Y/N’s hand came up this arm just like earlier, but this time JJ shot back. The hazy look in his eyes was replaced with a frenzied one, his hand coming up to his hair to tug as he spoke.

“Groff,” Is all JJ said. “Groff.”

“I saw him. Why’d he lock you in there? JJ, something is–”

“Where?” Suddenly, JJ’s voice stilled. His demeanor was still panicked, but his voice came out clear. “Where did he go?”

JJ didn’t wait for Y/N to stop hesitating, running out the gate. Y/N followed quickly watching him take the path towards their home, the same path Groff had taken. She wanted to stop him and get him to speak to her, but JJ was sprinting and she was struggling to keep up. She’s not sure how long they ran, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. They’d reached the edge of the forest and she knew that after a few more minutes they’d be hitting a road that was usually empty.

JJ stopped suddenly, bending over to hold his knees. Y/N didn’t take this as a chance to ask questions because it seemed JJ had started to calm down. His breathing was slowing down and some of the color on his face was returning. Whatever happened between him and Groff had very clearly not gone well and she didn’t want to pull that out of him. She needed to meet him where he was.

“I’m gonna take the long way home,” JJ said, standing up to his full height. Y/N didn’t argue. They could take the long way home.

“Alright.” Without any more words, Y/N followed JJ as he exited the clearing of the forests towards the road. Just as she had felt everything returning to normal, it all came crashing down again. Everything felt like it happened in milliseconds.

Groff was on top of someone.

Then JJ was charging towards them and pushing Groff off the other person.

Groff struggled under JJ while Y/N took in the third body.

The third dead body. Lightner, Terrance’s killer. The third body belonged to the mercenary that had held Cleo hostage and killed Terrance. And, now he was dead.

Y/N didn’t have time to dwell on what that meant, because JJ was still in a tussle with Groff. She saw JJ’s head flick to the side, his gaze zeroing in on something: A knife. That must’ve been what Groff had used to cause the gaping wound Y/N could see on the mercenary. JJ flung himself off Groff and took hold of the knife, pointing it towards Groff. Not moving his eyes or his aim from Groff, JJ walked backward until he stood in front of Y/N. He had to sidestep step the body.

“Don’t come closer,” JJ warned, his body effectively blocking Y/N from being able to determine what Groff was doing. Y/N moved to the side just enough to get a view, but not enough to make JJ’s efforts to protect her go in vain. She watched as Groff raised his hands in surrender and an appeasing smile made its way to the older man’s face.

“JJ,” He chuckled. “Look, I don’t want trouble. He,” Groff pointed to the lifeless body on the ground. “He attacked me. I was defending myself.” JJ stayed silent, his body rigid, on alert.

“You have to believe me, son,” Groff’s words triggered something in JJ because suddenly he was leaning forward and shouting.

“Shut up!” JJ yelled, before slowing down, his voice returning to its usual cadence. “Just shut up.”

Groff’s hands rose again, pushing them forward in a way of apologizing for overstepping. He waited another moment before trying again, “Nothing bad has to happen. Just… just get rid of the knife. He was a bad man. You know he was,” Groff said, his tone calm, like the kind a father would use to sing his child a lullaby. “He tried to kill you, your friends. He was doing the same to me, JJ. Let’s just throw the knife. Leave him.”

Groff was right, he was a bad man. The only thing stopping Y/N from agreeing to run was that she was sure Groff was a much worse man.

“JJ, don’t listen to him,” Y/N drew JJ’s attention over his shoulder. “We can’t throw the knife away. It’s evidence.” Y/N saw JJ’s eyes close for just a second, his eyebrows furrowed in tension.

“It’s okay,” Groff said, his voice sickeningly sweet. “It’s just us three. We can trust each other.”

“He’s lying, JJ. We need to leave.” Y/N tried again. Groff stayed silent this time and when she looked at him she was shocked by how sincere he seemed. There was something about his eyes, something he could manipulate. He seemed so genuine like he was the good guy, but a good guy wouldn’t have locked JJ in a tomb.

“Why should I believe you?” JJ was speaking to Groff with the knife still firmly pointed at him. “You just locked me in a fucking cemetery.” Thank God, JJ wasn’t falling for this.

“That– that was to protect you,” Groff urged, using his hands emphatically. “I knew these guys were on my tail, I didn’t want you caught up in this. I was gonna come back for you, JJ.”

Y/N stood out from behind JJ to see exactly where his head was at. She couldn’t decipher what he was thinking or whether Groff’s words were having any effect on him at all.

“Why?”

Groff tilted his head at JJ in confusion, but clarity spread over his features quickly, “I want to protect you,” He said, walking closer to JJ, suddenly unafraid of the knife pointed at him. “Because you’re my son. My boy.”

“JJ, please, he’s just–” Y/N didn’t have time to finish the persuasion. JJ pulled out the brown and silver lighter she knew he always kept on him and lit the wooden end of Groff’s knife. The fire caught quickly and JJ let the knife fall to the floor. As the wooden part of the knife began to turn to ash, JJ used the toe of his boot to put out the fire. As soon as the fire was out, Groff was approaching JJ with open arms and a smug smile on his face.

“JJ, son–” JJ’s arm came out to push Groff away from him, a look of rage Y/N had never seen on him before.

“Leave.” Groff stepped back from JJ with a hurt expression on his face.

“JJ–”

“I said leave. Go before I change my mind,” JJ warned. Then, so Groff wouldn’t call his bluff, he added “I’m not afraid to go to prison.” Groff’s expression thinned, but he nodded. It took him some time but he began to walk away.

“One more thing,” JJ shouted. “Stay away from me and my friends.” Y/N saw the way Groff’s shoulders fell before he turned away and followed JJ’s orders. Y/N looked around at the empty roads. They needed to get out before someone else came.

JJ was on the same page, it seemed because he grabbed her hand and began running into the woods. Taking the shortcut JJ had forsaken earlier, he didn’t stop or speak to Y/N until they were safely back on the Maybank property– their property. JJ tugged Y/N’s hand, stepping closer to her. He didn’t say a word, just watched her as they stood right by the chartering shack. Y/N couldn’t get her thoughts straight. Groff had murdered a man. They’d covered it for him. But that man wasn’t exactly innocent and Y/N couldn’t get that thought out of her head.

“He killed Terrance.” JJ’s eyebrows furrowed before a look of realization passed his face. “Terrance’s killer is dead.”

JJ moved closer, his hand coming up to cup Y/N’s cheek. He’d never done that before and Y/N had a fleeting thought that maybe she’d have liked it if the circumstances were different.

“It’s over okay?” JJ murmured. His hand was still against her skin, but he didn’t make any move to take it away. “All of it. The treasure, Groff– we’re done. I’m…” Y/N waited, letting JJ gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry.” Y/N’s hand wrapped around JJ’s wrist, clinging to his promise. She just wanted to be done.

“It’s over,” Y/N repeated, the most she could offer in return for his apology. For once, she wasn’t angry with JJ. Maybe it was because the body was Lightner’s or maybe it was because he seemed to understand the gravity of this situation, but she wasn’t angry. She just wanted to forget this and move on. JJ nodded, before taking his hand away, and Y/N missed the warmth immediately.

“Y/N! Y/N wake up!” Cleo’s voice was barely noticeable as Y/N clung to the last bits of her sleep. Sleep had been fleeting, her grasp slipping every time she got close, last night. Her body had felt heavy like the weight of JJ’s decisions had somehow seeped into her bones. Destroying the evidence had been a horrible decision, to say the least, but it was done now.

“Cleo, what?” Y/N grumbled, turning the other way to ignore her unwanted alarm. That’s when she heard it: A familiar voice coming from the living room. It was Shoupe’s voice. Y/N shot up in bed. Cleo’s expression was stern, not betraying a hint of worry, but Y/N knew her much too well to fall for that.

“Do you think he knows about Terrance?” Cleo asked. Y/N was already getting out of bed, running her hands through her hair. Y/N knew that wasn’t the case, but if she said anything, Cleo would know something was wrong. She could read Y/N as well as Y/N could read her.

Y/N took a quick look at herself in the mirror. Allowing herself enough time for only one deep breath in and out, Y/N left the bedroom. The door of her bedroom, well more like her storage closet, led straight into the living room. Shoupe on the couch, Sarah and John B sat with rigid posture in front of him on pull-out chairs. Her arrival had drawn the attention of the other three and just as she came in, so did JJ from the front door. They had only a second to make eye contact before Shoupe was speaking.

“Ah, Good Morning,” Shoupe gave Y/N an easy-going smile that did nothing to make her feel at ease. Shoupe looked up towards her literal partner in crime and gave him a nod. “JJ.”

“Morning, Shoupe,” Nothing about JJ seemed like he could have any inclination as to why Shoupe was here. Y/N did her best to follow his lead. “Didn’t bring any donuts, but…” JJ made a show of looking down at his almost empty water bottle. “I could give you a sip.”

Shoupe’s smile turned into a sarcastic one as he shook his head. “I’ll pass. Just wanted to ask y’all a couple of questions.”

JJ’s eyebrow shot up, curiously. “What about?”

“Nothing of worry. I was just asking these guys where they were yesterday. Say around 4 p.m.?”

JJ gave him a questioning look, walking further into the room. “Why would that be of interest to you?” Y/N suppressed a groan. Why was he being difficult?

“Look,” Shoupe sighed, standing up from the couch. “I don’t want trouble. Sarah and John B. answered my questions. Why don’t you just cooperate for once.” Oh. Of course, it would have been more of a giveaway if JJ hadn’t been asking questions.

“That’s all fine, but don’t I get to know why I’m being questioned?” JJ waited as Shoupe looked at him, an unsure look on the cop’s face. Finally, Shoupe began speaking.

“A body was found on a back road and we’re just trying to make sure all our bases are covered,” Y/N went still. She’d been quiet this whole time, but now she was scared she wouldn’t be able to speak even if she was asked to. The cops knew about the body, but how did Shoupe know one of them was involved? He doesn’t know, Y/N reminded herself, it’s just a theory.

“And we’re a base because?” JJ continued his act of oblivious defiance. “Don’t know about the rest, but Y/N and I were together around… what time did you say?” JJ’s voice seemed muffled over the blood pumping in Y/N’s ear.

“Four.”

“Yeah, I was with Y/N. Here, at the shop,” JJ offered. “We were trying to fix the charter shack's generator. Y/N kind of fried the thing.” With that, all eyes were on Y/N. It was her turn to make JJ’s lies believable enough for them to get past this.

“I didn’t fry it,” Y/N argued, rolling her eyes before focusing on Shoupe. “But, yeah, I was with JJ working on the generator. You can stop by the shack if you want. You’ll get to witness JJ’s handy work firsthand.”

Shoupe nodded his head before it slowly turned into a shake, “No, that’s alright. We think the guy got into something with the Genrettes. I know y’all have been heading to Goat Island a bit more so I thought I’d check in. Thanks for your cooperation,” Shoupe shot JJ a pointed look, before heading out the front door.

“Explain,” Cleo said, her accent coming out thicker like it always did when she was going big sister mode with Y/N. They were only a year apart but she had always treated Y/N like she was her little sister rather than a friend.

Y/N bit her lip and sighed, “Call Pope and Kie, we need to talk.”

“So you tampered with evidence and left a body in the middle of a road?”

“You know, for someone so smart, you ask an awful lot of dumb questions, Pope,” John B quipped at Pope’s recap. Y/N and JJ had spent the last fifteen minutes catching the Pogues up to speed. On everything: Genrette’s letter, finding Groff at the grave, the confession JJ received, and JJ burning the knife. Turns out, Pope, Kiara, and Cleo had all been questioned before Y/N had woken up, each having an alibi and someone to attest to it. For Kie, it was her mom who had asked her to meet for lunch somewhere. Pope and Cleo had been together at his parent’s place.

“JJ, why did you tell Shoupe we were together?” As soon as Shoupe had left, Y/N had been reviewing every word of the interaction. She was trying to find any part that could have gotten them caught, but Shoupe had been surprisingly willing to listen and the conversation had been much shorter than anticipated.

“Cause we were?” JJ was sat on the floor, his back against the couch, as he looked up at Y/N.

“Now we’re each other’s alibis and no one can back us up to say we weren’t near the crime scene,” Y/N was trying extremely hard to not lose her patience. Yes, this was JJ’s fault, but she knew it wasn’t black and white. None of the messes they found themselves in ever were.

JJ was quiet for a while before he looked away. “No one else could have been our alibi.” He probably hadn’t meant for it to hurt, but God did it. He was right. The only people who could have covered for JJ and Y/N were in this room. This was the only family they had.

“What do we do now?” Sarah piped from next to Y/N on the couch.

“Nothing. The only people who were there were Y/N and me. There are no cameras. We’re fine.” JJ’s nonchalance was met with a slap against the back of his head from Cleo.

“Ouch?”

“You’re forgetting Groff, idiot.”

“Okay,” Kiara cut off any possibility of a fight between JJ and Cleo with a question of her own. “What happens if they do tie this to the two of them? Or, more likely, if Groff tries to pin this on them?” The entire room was silent as they considered this. It almost felt like no one had considered where Groff fell into all this.

“He wouldn’t—” JJ sounded exasperated by this conversation, but it was obvious to everyone that this was so much deeper for him. “Groff doesn’t get anything from trying to pin this on us.”

“Um, except maybe innocence,” Pope chipped in his usual wise guy way that he couldn’t help sometimes, but Y/N knew he didn’t mean any harm by it. She watched JJ with a steady gaze as he simply shrugged and looked away. This was going to be such a long conversation if someone didn’t take the lead. Y/N looked over to John B with a desperate plea on her face that she hoped he’d understand. Luckily, he did.

“Alright look,” John B said, getting up from his seat on the couch. He moved to the edge of the room so that he could be seen by everyone. “What we need is a backup plan if this comes back to Y/N and JJ.”

“They could get married.”

Y/N was surprised everyone’s heads didn’t roll off with how quickly they turned to look at Pope.

“What?”

Y/N and Kiara looked at each other briefly after their simultaneous outbursts before looking back at Pope. He was sat lazily against the other side of the couch, opposite to JJ, mischief in his eyes.

“What? Spousal privilege and all that,” Pope chuckled.

“Cleo, wack him in the head,” Y/N fussed. “This is no time for jokes.” Pope lifted his hands in a surrender gesture, but the smirk never left his face.

“Okay, well, any other ideas?” John B waited a minute, letting the silence settle in until it felt as if it could be infinite, before sighing and placing his hands on his hips. “We stay low. JJ, don’t make contact with Groff. At least for now. And we’ll take a backseat on the treasure-hunting stuff.”

Y/N watched as the Pogues immediately began protesting in various ways. The treasure was their last chance of making it out. JJ was the only person aside from John B and herself that was quiet. He had promised her there would be no more treasure hunting, but she hadn’t taken him seriously. JJ was always the last to back down from any fight, but especially one like this.

John B lifted his hand to silence the others, “There’s been too much death surrounding us. This thing…it seems bigger than us.” He offered when no one looked convinced, “Just until the Ligthner thing blows over. Then we can try and see if it’s worth finding.”

“So no wedding?”

“Shut up, Pope.”

The ban on wedding talk didn’t last long in Poguelandia 2.0, because by six p.m. Y/N had been called into the station for more questioning. JJ had been going stir-crazy waiting for her to come home since she’d left with Pope as her driver two hours ago. Pope had been sporadically updating the group chat, but it did little to quell how his stomach kept lurching. He hoped this wouldn’t catch up to the two of them, even though all points were pointing to it.

The group had come out to sit on the patio, unable to bear sitting inside while they waited for Pope and Y/N to return. The sun was beginning to set and JJ had to keep absentmindedly swatting bugs away, but he barely registered anything around him. In the past 24 hours, he’d seen things he had never imagined and he never should have. And it just kept getting worse.

“JJ, can I just ask,” John B spoke up, breaking the silence that had set amongst the five remaining pogues. “What were you thinking?” JJ looked up at John B with a deadpan look.

“You tell me, 'cause I’m not the only one to turn a blind eye to my father killing someone,” He gave John B a pointed look and then turned the look to the others. “Or try to cover up a murder, for that matter.”

Everyone stared at him for a long moment, before nodding and mumbling some version of acceptance. JJ shook his head, letting his mind wander back to the day before. Seeing the man who was supposedly his father murder someone wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was seeing the corpse of his mother and her resting place in ruin.

He couldn’t get that image out of his head. His mother. He’d never known her, never known she was anyone to him, and the first time he saw her – at an age where he’d remember forever– it had been in the most haunting way. He’d wanted to throw up every time he remembered the sight, but he couldn’t stop reminding himself of it. JJ reached his fingers in his pocket trying to find the letter from Genrette– which had ironically become a comforting item. He felt nothing but the cotton lining of his pocket. Sitting up straighter, he checked his other pocket and found the same. There was no way he’d lost it, he’d kept the letter with him since he’d received it.

Just as JJ was beginning to stand from his seat, noticing he’d drawn Kie’s attention with his movements, he heard the Twinkie pull onto the property. Soon, Pope and Y/N exited the Volkswagen, their expressions somber. JJ stilled, waiting with bated breath as they stepped onto the porch. Y/N wordlessly slid the white banister and let her head fall against her knees.

“What? What happened?” JJ asked, moving to crouch down next to her. When she didn’t respond, just releasing a muffled groan, JJ turned to look at Pope. “What did Shoupe say?”

“According to Y/N, he has some sort of evidence,” Pope took a seat in front of their porch bench, letting his head fall against Cleo’s thigh. “That could tie y’all to the scene.”

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed what Pope was saying. Just as John B got out the words to ask what evidence they were referring to, JJ realized what had happened.

“Oh shit,” JJ thought aloud. He was still crouched beside Y/N, who was looking up now to see what JJ was cursing at. He just looked at her waiting for her to confirm his worst suspicions.

“The letter?” Y/N’s confirmation came in the form of a question, checking to see if JJ had already put that together. When his head fell, he knew she’d gotten her answer. “You knew?” Her voice was so accusatory, so full of unreleased venom that it made his head spin.

“No, yes– wait, ugh no,” JJ stood up to pace the porch and clear his thoughts. “I just realized a minute ago, that I’d lost it.” JJ wasn’t looking at Y/N as he explained himself. “It must have fallen out of my pocket.”

“Can someone fill us in,” Sarah, who was leaning against the opposite banister from Y/N, asked. “What letter?”

JJ filled in the rest of the Pogues about the letter from Genrette and him having the letter on him. He promised that he hadn’t known it had fallen out until just then and this time he looked at Y/N as he did. She just looked exhausted. Cleo, who had slipped inside without JJ noticing, gave her a water bottle and she didn’t speak until she’d chugged the entire thing.

“Shoupe asked if I knew anything about it. About the letter,” Y/N finally spoke. “I told him no. He wanted me to confirm where I’d been, so I told him here. With JJ. Asshole tried to say I wouldn’t be in trouble if my answer changed,” Y/N added with a scoff. JJ felt himself soften at that. She’d covered for him and it seemed she’d done it without a second thought.

“Was that it?” JJ said, instead of expressing any gratitude. Y/N shook her head.

“He basically asked how the letter could’ve been on the road if you hadn’t been. So…” Y/N pursed her lips, looking away from everyone. JJ felt his heart start to beat faster. This must have been when she admitted the truth: That this was all his fault.

“So?” Pope asked, clearly not having heard this part of the debrief.

“I… told him Groff came by here.”

No one said anything and no one moved.

“You did what?!” John B was the first to express the shared sentiment.

“I told him Groff came by!” Y/N doubled down, her voice more confident. “He wasn’t letting the idea go that I would know this about JJ, something about all of us not being able to keep our social securities a secret from each other. So I told him I knew he thought Groff could be his dad, but didn’t know about the letter.

“I told him Groff came by when I was manning the register and said JJ had called him over, JJ and him went to have a private conversation, and when he came back all JJ said was that Groff being his dad was fake news. I kind of suggested that maybe Groff took the letter back without outright suggesting it.”

JJ looked at Y/N, always careful Y/N. Y/N wasn’t careful in an innocent way. It was more…calculated. She took risks she knew had a higher probability of ending in her favor and never ones that would deter her from her end goal, whatever that may be. He couldn’t believe she’d lied to the cops in such a risky way.

“Y/N, that’s crazy,” Kie said. “What if they find out you’re lying? They could ask Groff.”

“I didn’t know what to do, Kie,” Y/N’s head was in her hands now. “I know, it was stupid.”

“Not completely,” John B offered. “Technically, it’s still you and JJ’s words against Groffs. That’s got to count for something. JJ nodded.

“I just… can’t get what Kie said out of my mind. Groff could easily take us down with him. What if this shit goes to court?”

“He’ll be gone before that,” JJ cut Y/N’s line of questioning off before she could go further. “He told me he’s headed to Morrocco. At the cemetery. Said he had everything: the map, how to read it.”

“Why would he tell you all that? He didn’t even admit you were his son until it was convenient.” JJ tried not to let Y/N’s words sting.

“He was trying to make me sound crazy like I was plotting to take the crown somehow by posing as his lost son. He kept saying it was ‘too late for anyone to take what was his’. I don’t know,” JJ shrugged. He avoided the pitiful gazes of his friends by looking out at the now night sky.

“I guess that’s something. But it still doesn’t get rid of the what if. This is a murder case, so if JJ and Y/N are linked to it, they’ll go to court. We all know KCPD doesn’t have a great track record of putting the real murderer in jail.” How Sarah could speak about her family trauma so nonchalantly, JJ would never know. “We can’t let Y/N perjure herself if they find out JJ tampered with evidence.”

The Pogues let themselves sit in what Sarah said, trying to find any solution. JJ was never the problem solver, but right now he couldn’t even come up with one of his bizarre ideas. Well, except–

“Guys, I know I was joking before, but…” Pope gave Y/N and JJ a sheepish look, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. There was an absence of even a trace of humor on his face.

“No way,” Y/N argued. “That’s crazy. We can’t get married.”

“Yeah, what?” JJ agreed, even though he’d been thinking the same. He didn’t actually think that would be an option.

“Y/N…”

“Cleo, there’s no way you think that’s reasonable.” Y/N and Cleo often did this thing where they’d communicate with only their eyes. JJ’s not sure if they actually knew what the other was saying or if they just filled the gaps with assumptions, but whichever it was it had Y/N storming inside the house.

“Y’all aren’t serious right?” JJ asked, but he had a feeling he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Spousal privilege, JJ. If Groff tries to bring you two to court, the only witnesses to his story are you two. If they can’t force you to testify against each other in court, then he has no leg to stand on.” JJ hated that Pope’s silver tongue. He could make almost anything sound like it was right.

“It makes sense,” John B added. JJ looked to Sarah who was nodding, but giving Kiara a sad look.

“Us getting married is not being left to a group vote.”

JJ turned to look at Kiara and felt his face flush. He hadn’t had a full conversation with her since he’d told her about the letter, but in his defense, he’d been a bit tied up. He’s not sure if it was completely intentional, since whatever he and Kie had wasn’t acknowledged in the group, but Pope, Sarah, and John B all went inside.

Kie avoided JJ’s stare, as she sat on the bench picking at imaginary cuticles. JJ walked over to her slowly, not feeling deserving of talking to her now, after he’d been so shut off. Still, he had to say something.

“Kie,” His voice was soft as he sat down on the bench.

“They’re talking crazy right? Marriage.” Kiara asked, letting her brown eyes meet his blue ones. “You’re nineteen.”

JJ and Kiara had a complicated relationship. For the longest time, JJ had a crush on Kiara. All the boys had at some point, most of those points overlapping. She was a pretty girl and for a while the only girl who hung out with them. It was impossible not to have a crush. But as they got older, JJ was able to look past that, and see Kiara for who she truly was. To him, she held the same place as John B and Pope did in his life, just with the bonus of being hot. Nothing ever came of that childhood crush and JJ didn’t think of Kiara in any way other than a friendly one for many years. Until they’d started working on Poguelandia 2.0.

Maybe it was because they were surrounded by couples, but the air between them had changed, and it wasn’t just on his end this time. When JJ would flirt, Kie would flirt back. When he’d sit a little closer than necessary on the couch, she’d close the gap. He’s not sure when or how, but it hadn’t taken them long to take that give-and-take into the bedroom. He couldn’t say that’s all they were– friends with benefits– because of course that wasn’t all they were. They’d been best friends before everything and you couldn’t sleep with your best friend and not let feeling get involved. But neither of them ever tried to define their relationship and JJ didn’t know if they ever would. Sometimes he would think of it as a situationship that would fizzle out, but then he’d feel guilty because this was Kie. He loved her. He knew he did, but was he confusing platonic love with romantic? And if he wasn’t, if he did romantically love Kie, did she even feel the same? They never talked about those thoughts though and the other Pogues never gave their fire the air it needed to grow– except one time, over a beer, John B had echoed JJ’s thoughts and let it slip that he thought that their arrangement would end eventually. Regardless, she still deserved for him to address her role in all of this.

“They’re definitely talking crazy, but…” He lacked the conviction he knew she needed to hear. JJ watched Kie’s nose scrunch, in the way it always did when she had something to say but wouldn’t let herself. “What? Say it.” Kie’s nose scrunch disappeared and she gave JJ a small smile.

“I just…” Kie’s scrunch returned, but she pushed through. “I know we’re not exactly exclusive. But I just thought we were more than…”

“We are,” JJ insisted, his hand reaching out to take hers. “Of course, we’re more than that.” Kie squeezed his hand once, but her smile was half-hearted.

“Are you seriously going to go along with this?”

“Y/N would never agree,” JJ said to ease her worries, but really to ease his own.

“If she did, though?” Kie’s hold on JJ’s had tightened and it felt like her hand was wrapped around his heart. He let his mind run through that possibility, deciding what he’d do.

“It’s my fault she’s in this situation.” That’s all that JJ could offer Kiara. Because in truth that’s all he knew. No matter what plan of action the Pogues took, his priority was making sure Y/N came out of this unscathed. He couldn’t live with himself if one of his friend’s lives got ruined because of him.

Kiara took her hand away from his and he felt the lack of it more than the touch itself. “If you do, we couldn’t keep doing…whatever we’re doing.”

“It wouldn’t be a real marriage, Kie,” JJ argued, but he felt gross as he said it. It wasn’t a real marriage, but he couldn’t expect Kie to stick around and wait for all of this to blow over.

“It would just make everything weird,” Kiara voiced JJ’s thoughts. JJ didn’t get a chance to offer any more to this conversation, because John B was yelling his name from inside. Sighing, JJ got up and waited for Kie to stand before they headed inside the house.

“What?” JJ asked, taking in the Pogues, who had now assembled in the living room. Y/N stood in the corner, her arms crossed across her chest and a look of defeat on her face. Y/N never looked defeated.

John B clapped his hands with a shit-eating grin on his face, “I’m gonna be your best man, right? Not Pope?”

What?

“I’m not walking down the aisle with you,” Cleo shot at John B.

“There’s no aisle,” Sarah reminded. “It’s at the courthouse.” JJ felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

“What’s at the courthouse?” He shouldn’t have asked. He already knew.

“Your wedding, of course.” JJ wanted to wipe that smile off Pope’s face with his fist.

taglist: @theater-bitch @ayy1234567 @tpwkyarely @lovesanimals0000 @B3rryb3t @mvaldez7821 @ummmmokaynotme

#jj mayback imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #obx x reader #outer banks x reader

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grlsbstshot · 2 days ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: jameson deals with the consequences of the many disappointments he's given imani over the years. sloane continues to unravel and only Christian realizes. genie and ej take another step in their relationship while imani wonders if she and jameson are worth saving.

Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, emotional breakdown, explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), dd/lg (slight), dom/submissive sex scene, p in v, oral (male receiving), biting -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 8.4k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Jameson stepped out of the elevator, brushing past stilted bodies as he made his way towards the parking garage. He had called Imani six times since leaving Sloane's apartment but there was no response. He scrolled past all the texts, all the notifications, and rejected several other calls. The only person he wanted to talk to was her. He got the voicemail again and the realization that she wanted nothing to do with him set in. He strode to his car, his jaw clenched. By the time he slid into the front seat, he was determined. He'd just go to her house. Even if he had to talk to her through the damn intercom at her front gate, he'd do it.

With a plan in mind, Jameson turned the car on and prepared to leave...but his gaze strayed to the phone in his hand. Common sense told him not to do it but he did. He went back to EJ's text and clicked the link to the music. Even as her voice filtered in through his car speakers, he didn't quite accept that it was her. It'd been so long since he'd heard music from her. Even her voice sounded different.

The untrained ear probably didn't hear it but Jameson did. He heard the anger, the loathing. She used to sing about him with exasperation but always love. Everything they sang about one another held an understanding -- they loved each other. He couldn't hear it anymore. Her lyrics were vivid, each word painting a picture of the love they’d shared and the ways it had fallen apart. He could hear the anger in her tone, the bitterness laced with sadness. The despair mingled with hope. Fuck.

I get this type of feeling you ain't accustomed to I swear I'd be at peace if it weren't for you

He winced the first time he got a shot on the project. They had done it back and forth to one another but she sounded fucking miserable with him. It was like he could pinpoint every single time she touched pen to paper and wrote a lyric that was about their relationship.

I don't care about what you seen in me You were not who you pretend to be I will regret giving my last, man I should've let you crash out Can't believe you blaming me

Every situation flashed right before his eyes. Argument after argument that leads to making up.

Trying to find, you're my blindspot, it's fine niggas Ruin me every single time

The first time they saw each other after a year -- when she made him swear not to make her any promises so she could avoid being disappointed.

You know we got a real history That's no reason I can't choose me You know that dick been good to me You make it hard for me to choose me Dancing and kissing, the kitchen Makes me forget, I forgive him

The morning after they returned from Italy -- when everything seemed to be on an upswing for them.

That pussy hit like royalty Must be hard for you to lose me

The frantic texts and calls that he couldn't stop himself from making. That he didn't want to stop.

Text me like I'm waitin' for you to come lie to me Ruin my day, sayin' shit to hurt me, I can't compete Still on the way, I lay awake if you're not around me I'm so on to you, still gone for you

God, why did she stay with him? Three years together. A year apart. She still gave him the chance to come back even though that was how he made her feel.

You don't wanna be, be without me You don't wanna live I don't wanna go, ooh, no I don't wanna be alone, oh All that I know is mirrors inside me They recognize you, please don't deny me

It was true. He didn't want to live without her. But how was he ever supposed to go back to her with this knot in his gut? How was he supposed to lay next to her at night knowing he drained and twisted her up inside like this? Even without trying? She had every right to hate him and she knew it. In those lyrics, it told their whole story. She wanted to hate him...but couldn't.

He hadn't even realized he was driving until he came to a stop...at his own house. Even his subconscious knew he couldn't face Imani right then. What was he going to say? I'm sorry. I was wrong. I fucked up again. I hurt you again. Look away, forgive me again. It sounded hollow as fuck even in his head. He didn't have the right to ask for any of it.

He hadn’t just hurt her a few times -- he’d broken their relationship in ways he couldn’t even comprehend. She’d poured her pain into this music, and the world was celebrating it, but all he could hear was the sound of her heart-shattering and it was his fault. So he sat there in his punishment, listening over and over. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d lost. He was thinking about what he’d taken from her — and how he’d never be able to give it back.

Her entire body felt like it was in shock. She felt numb. The carefully planned dinner she'd prepared for Jameson had spiraled out of control. She didn't even remember breaking dishes but they sat in shattered pieces around her as she leaned against her front door. How could he just leave her? He wasn't supposed to leave! He was supposed to appreciate her and be happy she was there for him. He was supposed to see true loyalty from her. But somehow...it had all fallen apart.

Sloane’s hands trembled as she slowly crawled across the floor, avoiding slivers of shattered plates. By the time she had enough awareness to climb to her feet, she realized she needed her phone. She searched the room, finding it underneath the couch. In the chaos, it had slipped away. It trembled in her hands as she tried to decide who to call.

She was sad. Hurting. Who was she supposed to call? Her parents? They didn't care. Genie? She had tossed that friendship away. Jameson? Her heart clenched at the idea of calling him and going to voicemail. She sat on her couch, holding the phone to her chest before it dawned on her. She wiped her damp palms on her skirt as she called the contact and the phone rang. Her chest felt tighter, her breaths shallow and uneven.

When his voice finally came through the line, her relief was overshadowed by desperation. "C-Come over,” she said quickly, her voice cracking. “I need you here. Please.” She hung up before he could respond, her pulse racing. She sank onto the couch, running her fingers through her hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

By the time Christian arrived, her makeup was streaked from tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. He stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor faltering when he saw her.

“Sloane,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him. “What the fuck happened?”

She stood, her movements frantic, and began pacing again. “He said he's done with me. Jameson — he ended everything. Our friendship, everything. He called me out for all of it—for hurting Genie, for you, for everything I’ve done.”

Christian frowned, his concern evident. “Okay, slow down. Take a breath. What exactly did he say?”

Sloane stopped pacing, turning to face him. “He asked if I fucked you. I told him it was a mistake. He didn't even care that I slept with you. He cared that it hurt Genie. He didn't even care about me." Her voice trailed off, mumbling as she dissolved into tears again. "That I’ve ruined too much, and he can’t trust me anymore. "He looked at me like I was disgusting, Christian. Like I was nothing.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

Christian approached her cautiously, his tone gentle. “I need you to calm down. C'mon, sit down. I'll get you some water." Sloane's movements were jerky and she couldn't get herself to stop shaking. Christian took her arm firmly, guiding her to sit back down. "Don't move."

For once, Sloane didn't argue or ignore him. She sat there and stared at the ceiling, the past few years hitting her hard. When he brought the glass back to her and took a seat next to her, she was in tears again. “I don't know --" she began, shifting her gaze to find his. "I don’t know who I am without him.”

Christian’s jaw tightened, his sympathy battling with his frustration. “You lived a life before Jameson Lucas smiled at you. You'll be fine without him. Just...stop digging yourself deeper."

She pulled away from him, her movements sharp, gaze darting to her phone on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I just… I need him to feel what I’m feeling. To know how much this hurts.”

“Revenge isn’t going to make this better. It’s just going to make things worse for you and for him -- not that I give a fuck about him.” “It’s not revenge. It’s justice." "So you fuck with him some more. You think that'll make him love you?" "I...I don't know how to get him back." "What if you never do. What are you going to do?"

Sloane hesitated and Christian rolled his eyes. “Wake up. No matter what you do -- he won't be yours. But the sun is going to come up tomorrow, Sloane. The world will keep on turning. Life will continue. You will continue."

Fresh tears filled her eyes again and she doubled over, laying on the couch and crying softly to herself. She was alone. She didn't even notice Christian sitting next to her, his fingers awkwardly brushing through her hair as she cried.

EJ snored against her chest as the light from her cell illuminated her bedroom. Genie pressed her hand to his back, rubbing in small circles as she continued to text Imani back. The two hadn't seen each other in person but Genie finally found the words to tell her she wasn't upset about the photo. their friendship immediately shifted back into normalcy -- with the two texting and calling regularly. Despite the massive Jameson-shaped elephant in the room.

After listening to Imani's EP, Genie couldn't help but interfere. Even when she told EJ she wouldn't.

[ genie ] : i loved diary, mani mani ❤️ [ baby mama ❤️ ] : aw my genie. thank you [ genie ] : i promise to smack jamie's neck again when i see him [ baby mama ❤️ ] : lmao, you ain't gotta do that, baby [ genie ] : are you just going to keep avoiding him forever? [ baby mama ❤️ ] : idk, genie. i'm not ready to talk to him yet. [ genie ] : i think you should hear him out, mani. he's really sorry [ baby mama ❤️ ] : 🙄 that's the problem. he's always fuckin sorry. it's sloane today, but next week, it'll be some other shit. [ genie ] : but you love him. you haven't loved anyone the way that you love him. i think you should at least hear him out [ baby mama ❤️ ] : i can't make no promises, genie 🙅🏾‍♀️ [ genie ] : okay, okay. i guess i'll take it. there is something else i have to tell you tho...it's about christian and me. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : what? i promise those pics ain't mean shit. i just wanted to make jameson jealous. [ genie ] : i know, i just want you to be careful with him .the reason why i stopped talking to him is because he slept with sloane. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : wtf??? 😡 you lyin! [ genie ] : i wish i was. i confronted sloane and she said he didn't even want me anyways...he liked someone else. i'm starting to think it's you he wanted. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : fuck, i'm so sorry genie. that nigga wouldn't even got a chance to breathe my air if i knew that shit. he's blocked now! and if i catch that bitch sloane in the street, i'm whooping her ass. i promise you that. idgaf bout no fame shit. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : are you okay now? [ genie ] : yeah, it's in the past. i got a new man now. [ baby mama ❤️ ] : ....new man?

Imani stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of her dress, her gaze drifting the length of her gown. Being in front of crowds didn't phase her but she was going to a charity event -- a Christmas day gala. After spending the morning with visiting friends and family, she felt a sense of calm. He didn't stand in the forefront of her mind on Christmas Day. But the second she counted him out of her system, he course he did something to show her that he was still embedded in her skin.

As she descended the stairs to show off her dress to the assembled relatives, Imani rounded the corner with a bright grin. "And I look damn good!" There he stood among her cousins and aunt -- her father glaring from a corner. He looked handsome, quietly composed. He acted like he was supposed to be there. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, ignoring the curious looks of her family members.

She hadn’t expected him to show up tonight. Not after everything that had happened between them. But when he’d agreed weeks ago to escort her to the gala, she had assumed it was just a polite gesture— he was doing his best to get back in her good book. She hadn’t expected him to actually follow through.

And yet, here he was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, standing with his hands in his pockets, leaning against her kitchen counter.

"We made plans," he replied, his voice warm, but with an edge of determination. “I wanted to keep them.”

She hesitated, eyes flicking over him, then around the room to everyone else. It wasn't as if they weren't aware of what was going on. They all saw the gossip, heard the news. But still -- she felt vulnerable letting them all have a front row seat to a fight with him. "Hmph. They definitely weren't still on." She hadn’t thought about what this night would actually feel like. It had been easy to imagine herself attending the gala without him—easy to picture her life moving forward without the constant ache of their broken relationship. But now that he was standing in front of her, it was harder to push him away.

"They aren't?" He asked with a deceptively innocent tilt to his head. "I didn't get that message from you. I'm sorry."

He was practically bating her into a reply. Imani glared at him, choosing to ignore his presence. She didn't respond, didn't say anything. She continued to fawn over her family, acting like Jameson wasn't there at all. They took pictures together, she tasted her aunty's dressing, and she kissed her parents goodbye before her team between to help her get into her driver's waiting car.

Jameson didn't complain, didn't beg for her attention. He stood silent and eventually followed her out of the house, waving goodbye to the family members that did engage with him.

She sighed, looking away from him. The thought of spending the evening with him, surrounded by people who would notice their tension, made her stomach churn. But something in her wouldn't let him win. They couldn't see her fluster or sweat when it came to him She had to admit, part of her wanted to go. Part of her wanted to see if this night could somehow undo all the hurt they’d caused each other.

“Mani,” he said, once he got into the car, his voice low and insistent. “We don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. But we can still do this. For one night. Let’s just...take things as they are.”

She met his gaze then, and for a moment, the weight of everything between them seemed to disappear. It was just him. Just her. And the night ahead of them.

“Fine,” she said, crisply. “But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for me.”

He smiled and she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Relief? Grief? It was something she couldn't identify. Every time he looked at her, it was as if he was asking for something. Whatever it was -- Imani didn't know if she had it in herself to give.

Sloane adjusted the strap of her Brandon Maxwell gown, a trembling hand brushing against her hair as she peered at her reflection in the tinted window of the car. Pulling herself together after Jameson left her alone in her apartment had been difficult. Christian had been a frantic last resort. He had shown up when she didn’t truly expect him to. She spent days in a daze, trying to truly understand what had gone wrong. The instinct to say something, to lash out was so strong that it felt suffocating. She’d been doomscrolling on Instagram and saw a grainy image of – was that Jameson?

It had been him. An image, taken from the account of one of Imani’s family members and posted directly to This Just In’s account. Seeing they were together had given Sloane some kind of strength. How dare they be happy when she was struggling? Her heels clicked against the pavement as she left the car and made her way towards the gala without an invitation. Sloane had a currency that mattered more than paper: Her name.

Heads turned as she passed, her presence commanding attention. But she wasn’t there to charm or distract – she was there to destroy. She didn’t even care what Imani would say or do to her. Just as long as Jameson’s gaze met her own again. Even if he was looking at her like he hated her – at least he was looking at her.

With a laugh and a promise to donate three times the amount as anyone else, she was allowed to enter. She saw him almost immediately. Imani wasn’t far but they weren’t wrapped up in each other. They weren’t laughing at her pain. They looked…miserable. It should have made her happy but Sloane simply stared, wondering what was happening between them. Imani didn’t meet Jameson’s gaze, Jameson kept tugging on his suit like he was uncomfortable. What was going on?

“Sloane.”

She turned sharply, her eyes narrowing as she met Christian’s gaze. He was impeccably dressed, as always, but there was a sadness in his expression that she didn’t expect.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed at him, somewhat ashamed that he had seen her cry a few days before and now he was looking at her with pity. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me,” Christian said firmly, stepping closer. “You’re spiraling, and you’re about to make a fool of yourself—and everyone else in the process.”

Sloane scoffed, frowning as she moved away from him. “You don’t get to lecture me, Christian. You’re just as complicit in this mess as I am.”

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, his voice low and steady. “I’m stuck in this shit because I wanted somebody so bad that I lost myself trying to get her. Look at her. Hell, look at him. Just look!”

Sloane reluctantly looked across the room. Jameson was gazing out at the crowd, his eyes seeing but he didn’t seem to be registering anybody around. Imani was looking at him. Her gaze was soft. Almost sad. She loved him. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, Sloane could see it.

“They’re in their little world. We will never be able to get in because all they care about is each other.” Christian told her roughly, the reality making her sad. “I may not be able to judge you right now but I’m not the one standing here, ready to burn everything to the ground because I didn’t get my way.”

Her eyes flashed with anger and she jerked away from him. “You think this is about me? This is about him. Jameson thinks he can walk away from me like I’m nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Christian said, his tone softening. “You did. And then you didn’t. That’s your own fault.” She flinched, recoiling as if he had hit her by being so casually cruel. It was a simple statement. One that had been true. Sloane hesitated, her lip trembling slightly. “But he…deserves it,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “He deserves to know what it feels like to be humiliated.”

Christian stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the couple. “And what about you? Is that what you deserve? Don’t you think you’ve been through enough?”

Sloane’s lips parted, shoulders slumping as his words sank in. She began to blink quickly, trying to rid her eyes of tears. “What am I supposed to do now? Just let them win?”

He glanced over his shoulder, peering at Imani and Jameson. Whatever he’d been about to say, he chose not to. Instead, he pressed his hand to her elbow and began to walk her toward the exit. Sloane was too overwhelmed to do much of anything but let him. “Nobody is winning, Sloane. All of us are fucking losers in this shit. It’s time we both stop chasing a dream.”

Genie looped her arm through EJ’s as they entered the grand ballroom. Her Jacquemeus Pilou boots work perfectly as accessories. Her self-designed black velvet mini dress left a shoulder bare and very little to the imagination. For once, she felt good about everything. She cuddled close to EJ, knowing they were going to have much to explain to their best friends – but she was okay with that. She was ready. Genie adjusted the hem of her dress and scanned the room, already aware of the tension crackling in the air.

“Imani’s here,” she murmured, spotting her friend near the edge of the dance floor. She was standing stiffly next to Jameson, who leaned in to say something. Imani turned her head sharply, her expression a mix of defiance and unease.

EJ followed Genie’s gaze, his brow furrowing. “They don’t look like two people enjoying a gala together.”

“They don’t,” Genie agreed, her lips pressing into a thin line. She sighed, glancing up at EJ. “Imani doesn’t need this kind of stress right now.”

“You think Jameson brought her to stress her out?” EJ asked. “He’s obsessed with that girl. He’s probably trying to fix it.”

Genie hesitated, her eyes flicking back to the couple. Jameson’s posture was slightly hunched, as if he was trying to close the gap between them, but Imani’s arms were crossed, her body angled away.

“Whatever he’s doing, it’s not working.” she said softly, sighing.

Before EJ could respond, movement near the entrance caught Genie’s attention. Her chest tightened as she spotted Sloane descending the stairs, her sharp gaze zeroed in on Jameson and Imani.

“Oh, God,” Genie huffed, annoyed with the fact that she was one foot into the gala and her night was looking to be ruined.

“What?” EJ turned, following her gaze. “Ain’t this bout a bitch.”

Sloane’s stride was purposeful, her dress clinging to her like armor. There was something wild in her expression, a barely restrained chaos that Genie had seen before—usually right before Sloane did something destructive.

“We need to stop her,” Genie said. “No. We don’t.” “Baby–” “No. That’s their shit, Genie. We said we’re out.”

It was like a car wreck. Genie couldn’t force herself to look away. Before Sloane could reach Imani and Jameson, Christian arrived. The two of them watched him step in front of Sloane, his hand on her arm as he spoke quickly. Sloane shook her head, her gestures animated, her voice too low to hear over the music. Christian’s grip tightened, and for a moment, it looked like she might shove him away.

Genie held her breath.

Sloane wavered, her shoulders slumping slightly. Christian leaned in, his tone firm but not unkind, and whatever he said seemed to take the fight out of her. With a sharp turn, she stalked back up the stairs and disappeared into the night.

Genie exhaled, relief washing over her. The tension between she and EJ were about other people and Genie would be damned if she let her night end on a bad note because her friends – ex and present – couldn’t get it together. “Okay. Fuck it. Fuck this party. I’m sorry. Take me home.”

The air inside EJ’s home was warm and quiet, a stark contrast to the loud chaos of the gala. Genie slipped off her heels and sank onto the plush couch, her head falling back against the cushions.

“Tonight was... a lot,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Yeah,” EJ agreed, loosening his tie. He sat down beside her, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch.

Genie turned her head to look at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You always know how to keep things steady, don’t you?”

“I try,” he said, his tone light.

She studied his face, the lines of his jaw, the way his eyes softened when they looked at her. She finally had that calm back. Before they let the world in, she had a little sliver of peace with EJ. He had been right. She cared far too much about other people and it was beginning to fuck with what she was trying to build with him.

Genie frowned somewhat, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand. “I’m sorry. I let everything get in my head again.”

EJ gave her a soft smile before leaning down to kiss her lips gently. “You can’t help it. That’s how you are. You love everybody and everything.”

“I just want them to be happy.” She whispered. “I know. But that’s not your job.” “It could be. Technically, I don’t have a job. I'm an heiress.” “Smart ass.” He murmured, kissing her again. “I can think of a job for you.” “Can you?”

His hand moved from the couch to her chin, fingertips gliding to press to her throat gently. Genie didn’t flinch, the action unfazed her. She trusted EJ implicity…and that turned him on.

“I can.” He knew she could see that things had changed. He’d only ever been between her legs to taste her, holding off on sex until they could have a conversation that he’d had several times before. Pulling his hand away, EJ rounded the couch and took a seat next to her. “I like sex, Genie. I like it a lot. And I like to control how I have sex.”

EJ’s gaze met hers and he saw her eyes go wide. It took her less than a second to understand what he was saying. “Okay.” she murmured.

“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

EJ spoke clearly and softly, his gaze tracking her movements.

“I’m not a virgin, EJ.” she told him with a laugh, “You want to tie me down? Spank me? I’m down. Whatever you want to do, I will do. Because I want you.”

“It can’t just be about me, Genie. We’re going to be together, we both have to like it.”

He seemed to be talking himself out of going further with her but the feel of her soft hand against his mouth stopped all conversation.

“I understand. We can take it slow. Teach me.”

The words triggered something in EJ. He gave her a grin before nodding his own head. "Alright. Lemme teach you."

Despite the agreement that they'd let the night be what it was, the tension between them was thick and suffocating. The gala was in full swing, the lights from the building casting a warm glow over the crowd of well-dressed people. The party certainly didn't stop when they arrived but Jameson could detect a ripple of disbelief. They weren't supposed to be together. Even though they weren't holding hands, weren't kissing, or behaving anywhere near the way they normally would -- the two of them being together was going to cause a commotion.

Throughout the evening, they danced around the situation, polite and distant. They didn't even engage with each other much at all. He wanted to be there for her -- to not let her down once again but the more he stood beside her, the more he remembered just how fractured shit was. Every time he tried to engage her, she refused. It was like pulling teeth to exchange words.

He got more and more uncomfortable as the evening passed. He didn't know what to do with himself and Imani wasn'[t interested in making things easy for him.

But finally... she spoke to him.

About a fucking drink.

"I'm gonna go speak to my auntie real quick." she murmured. "you want a drink? I might go to the bar on my way back."

"That's the first time you've talked to me like you don't hate me in two hours. And it's about a drink." he replied, not answering her question. Jameson reached up, gently pulling at the bowtie against his neck. Being on raw terms with Imani always made him uncomfortable but doing it in front of a crowd? It was even worse.

She chuckled lowly at his statement and he knew he was in for it. "What do we have to talk about, Jameson?” she said. "I think you've said enough. I heard enough. Don't make me regret asking."

Jameson tugged at his bowtie again, lifting his neck to undo the damn thing. he was beyond uncomfortable and keeping appearances wasn't important to him anymore. He didn't give a damn if people noticed they were standing feet apart and barely touching. "No, I don't want a fucking drink. I only came because I was tired of disappointing you. but I might as well have stayed at home for all you care." He pulled the silk from his neck, shoving it in his pocket as he unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.

She clenched her jaw, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah, maybe you should have stayed at home.” Well, this conversation was going horribly.

“You really don’t think we have shit to talk about? I guess not, considering you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls.” Jameson asked her, amazed at her audacity. They hadn’t spoken since sloane’s party and that had been her decision. Once again, he was iced out and desperate to get back in. She gave him absolutely nothing until tonight. Everything else he found out from her Diary ep, and just the thought of the project agitated him even further.

She sighed. Her annoyance began to show through her furrowed brows and crossed arms. She could no longer keep up with the facade either. “What the fuck do you want me to say to you? You said everything you needed to say. So, why we gotta keep talkin’ about the same shit?” she snapped.

“Imani, you dropped a whole ep talking about how you felt about us before even picking up the phone to talk about those feelings with me, but we have nothing to talk about?” She looked around the gala, looking for any eyes on the two of them. Jameson didn’t give a fuck though. His reputation took a backseat to their relationship every time.

“Why does it matter what I do? You made your choice and it wasn’t me. So nothing I do concerns you.”

Jameson turned to glare at imani, actually confused for the first time during their conversation. He didn't even need to play stupid or lie. “In what world, In what fucking reality, did I tell you that I chose her over you? I should have done differently that night but I would never say that shit to you.” He thought back to their argument and couldn’t figure out what the fuck was even happening here. He spent his entire week, bombarding her with calls and texts, but she was still focused on Sloane?

Imani turned to glare at him. “You didn’t have to fuckin’ say it! It’s the fact that you didn’t say anything. That’s making a choice right there, Jameson.”

He sighed. “I texted and called you this whole week. I went and got fitted for a tux without you even telling me if you still wanted me to go to this gala. Then I showed up. All of that was for you.” he said, his voice strained. He stared at her. “I wouldn’t do that for anybody else.”

“Okay? You want a cookie?” imani scoffed. “None of that means anything to me, Jameson. You didn’t stick up for me at Sloane’s party. you chose her. So go be with her.” He watched her scan the crowd again, realizing that she kept her temper in check, because there were other people around. “Go get your girl.”

From her EP to her admitting his actions meant nothing, his feelings were hurt. Jameson didn’t fool himself into thinking that everything would be okay if he showed up tonight but he felt he was doing the right thing by being here. “You can’t tell me how I feel about you. You can’t tell me I love anybody more than I love you. You can’t tell me that I don’t think the world begins and ends with you. I don’t fucking feel right if I can’t talk to you. I do stupid shit like fly to Italy and bang on every room door just to fucking see you. But I’m so tired of trying to convince you that my sun does not rise if you aren't around...so I won’t anymore. I’m done. You’re right about one thing…I should have stayed my ass home tonight.”

it may have been a sliver of a second but her demeanor softened. it was like he triggered an alarm because her guard was right back up again. "Yeah, maybe it's best if you go then. Because you tellin' me how much you love me don't mean shit. If you really loved me in the way you say that you do, I wouldn't even have to question my position in your life.”

Jameson hated to leave her, he hated to continue the distance between them, but it was getting to be too much now. He could feel his fragile composure slipping even more. “I love you and I don't want to keep hurting you.” He leaned in briefly, kissing her cheek. “So I’ll see you when I see you, Imani.” He gave her one final look before walking away, slipping through the crowd easily as he made his way out.

Imani exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. contrary to what she said, She didn’t want Jameson to leave. Imani looked out at the crowd to see if he was still there. Her eyes focused on him and no one else as he moved through everyone. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to work things out. That she believed him but her feet didn’t move an inch. She just watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore.

She sighed, standing to her feet. Imani went to go look for her aunt, Toni St. Cirie. she needed a distraction. Imani wasn’t going to cry, but if she thought about her conversation with Jameson for too long, she would lose it.

Luckily for Imani, she didn’t get far in her heels when she felt a bump to her side. She looked to see the blonde woman standing beside her. “You need it. Drink.” Imani took the champagne without a second thought. She almost chugged it down until she remembered where she was at, so she settled on a sip.

“Thank you. Can you sit with me for a while?” If Toni was here, she was more than likely working. She never attended galas just to mingle and bump shoulders with the wealthy. Imani didn’t want to take her away from her job for too long. She just needed someone to talk to.

“Of course.” She answered softly. The two navigated the floor together. Imani held onto her champagne glass tightly. the more people she saw, the less she wanted to be there. She wanted to go home. She was grateful when Toni found a spot away from everyone else. Toni pulled out a chair for Imani and took a seat next to her. The woman looked around before speaking. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She rolled her eyes, thinking back on her conversation with Jameson. She wanted nothing more than to forget it. “Auntie, it’s so stupid. I know you heard about that fight at that girl’s party,” she said, refusing to address Sloane by name anymore. “Well, I hadn’t talked to him this whole week because what do we have to talk about when you obviously made your choice? He was still calling and everything, but I ignored it all and dropped Diary. i just didn’t expect him to show up tonight.”

Toni quirked a brow as she explained their latest quarrel.

Imani sighed, "I know i should leave him alone. it’s just – hard.”

“Well then, it’s good that he left right?” Toni told Imani. she had never been Jameson’s biggest fan. Her aunt always advocated for her to leave him alone and focus on her career. She said a relationship like theirs would only lead to insanity.

Imani nodded slowly, “I–I guess so,” she said timidly. Now that they were alone, she forgot about her formalities and looking like she had everything together. She gulped down the rest of her champagne, feeling it tingle in the back of her throat. She needed to feel something other than anger and sorrow right now. The champagne would do.

Toni reached out and touched her knee. “Baby…” she said softly, shaking her head. “Anything worth doing is going to be difficult. You keep going in this circle with Jameson. You’re happy for a while and then you’re right back here. In this feeling. He shouldn’t get to have all this power over you. This should be the last time that you feel like this.”

She gazed at her aunt. Imani always took Toni’s advice regarding her career and everything else. She was terrible at listening to her when it came to Jameson. Yet, she nodded her head. “You’re…right. Nobody should be allowed to make me feel like this.”

“Damn right,” Toni confirmed with a smirk. she took her niece’s hands in her own, holding them close. “You just released an ep full of hits, Imani. That should be your focus. Not a man. But if you have to date someone, let me introduce you to a nice boy.”

She laughed for the first time tonight. “Depending on what the nice boy looks like, I might take you up on your offer.”

Toni smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’ll make sure he’s an elite-looking boy.”

“I trust your taste, auntie. All of your exes are fine as hell.” She couldn’t think of ever seeing Toni with an ugly man; she had good taste. The two of them continued their conversation about men, which eventually shifted to her career and different ideas she had for her Diary ep, and eventually, Imani wasn’t thinking about Jameson at all.

Genie might be the woman of his dreams.

She asked to be taught and he wasted no time doing just that. EJ figured they would take things slow. He would teach her how to please him. They’d get to sex another time. But as she lay across his bed, the dress had customized for herself hung with care in his closet, he knew he was going to fuck her.

She turned her head, taking his length down her throat once more. She was on her knees and stomach, leaning over the edge of the bed to get to him. EJ grunted in pleasure at the perfect feel of her wet mouth, a deep rumble that reverberated in his own chest. His dick throbbed in her mouth as her cheeks hollowed out. She kept her gaze on his face, hands clenched in the blanket as if she were waiting for instruction.

“Pull back.” He told her roughly, pleased when she immediately knew it meant to keep only the head of him in her mouth. Pre-cum mixed with her saliva coated his dick and EJ gave her a wistful sigh of appreciation. She held him there in her mouth, those pretty hazel eyes just asking for more.

He seized the back of Genie's hair, pulling her forward onto his cock slowly. The further they went, the wider her eyes got but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t buck back. Didn’t tell him she couldn’t handle it. The action caused Genie to gag slightly which only turned him on more. He groaned and thrust his hips forward only to be met with her hand against his thigh.

EJ pulled back suddenly, leaving Genie gasping for air. "Not bad," he praised lightly, grinning wolfishly down at his lover as he reached around to stroke himself off lazily, watching Genie with hooded eyes. “Now I’m going to be nice and give you a choice. Don’t you think that’s nice of me?”

Genie opened her mouth to respond but then closed it and nodded. He had given her four rules when they started to play.

Be honest about your comfort level

Don’t speak unless given permission

Call him “Sir” or nothing at all.

No touching without permission.

EJ grinned, proud that she had remembered a rule. "Good girl. Very good girl." he praised before leaning down to kiss Genie gently on the lips. They were full and wet from the attention she had given his dick. He was even more proud of her. "So here's your choice: do you want me to fuck you or do you–”

“Fuck me!” Genie blurted out, her eyes going wide as if she couldn’t believe she’d said it. They both went quiet before EJ burst out in laughter. Genie blushed but she didn’t seem dismayed at the turn of things.

"I wasn’t done talking," EJ told her with a quirked brow. “I’m sorry, Sir.” She said softly, her fingers pulling at the blankets in anticipation.

He brushed his thumb against her mouth, liking the way she opened her lips as if begging him to press the digit inside. He gave in to her, pushing his thumb in. Genie brushed her tongue against it, sucking just as eagerly as she did when his dick was in her mouth.

It was enough to make him feel less guilty about giving in. He was fucking her because she asked…but also because he wanted her so bad that he could feel the pre-cum dripping from his dick.

"You picked what we do. I decide how we do it." EJ told her decisively. “Turn around.”

She was already on her knees but she understood exactly what he meant. Genie scrambled to turn her back to him, stretching her hands across the bed. The anticipation was a fucking killer. He watched her tremble, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds as if he was going to change his mind. EJ pressed his fingers between her legs, gathering her slick onto his fingers. She did her best not to make a sound but EJ knew she’d be unable to resist. They were new to all of this. He was going to go easy on her.

“Let me hear it, sweetness.” He encouraged her, noticing how her shoulders sagged in relief when she got permission. Genie let out a soft moan as he climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as he pressed himself against her. He drew his dick up and down her folds, teasing them both. EJ leaned over her back, peppering kisses along her spine as he finally grasped her hips in his hands.

EJ felt her brace for the inevitable thrust so he moved slowly. Inch by inch, he introduced her to her dick and it made her clench and squirm more than she would have if he just pinned her down and fucked her. Genie arched her back in pleasure, panting softly. She squeezed around him and he just knew it was going to be over if he didn’t do something.

"Hold it," EJ whispered, leaning down to press his lips to her ear, “I want to take my time with you.” He kissed and nipped at her earlobe. Genie shuddered at the sensation and nodded, eagerly spread her legs wider, giving him better access. She sank further against the bed, her palms turned down to grip the comforter.

Ej chuckled darkly and trailed his lips down to Genie's neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin there. Meanwhile, one hand reached between her legs to tease her already wet clit. Genie moaned and arched into his touch, craving more. “Sir, I–”

But he ignored her.

EJ continued to tease and torment her. Genie arched back, twisting her hips out in pleasure as he began to move them in a slow, torturous rhythm. She mumbled words he couldn't quite comprehend but he understood how her body twisted and turned. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly. EJ's other hand traveled up to fondle one of her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers as his hips kept her pinned beneath him.

The combination of sensations had Genie writhing beneath Ej's touch, begging for release. But EJ seemed determined to push her closer and closer to the edge without letting her fall over.

"P-Please," Genie moaned desperately, needing more friction against her sensitive clit.

"Please what?" "Please, sir!" "No. Not yet."

Trapped underneath EJ, Genie couldn't do anything but hold on for dear life. His hips picked up speed, the rhythm he'd spent what felt like forever setting had changed. He had changed. "Open that pussy up for me." He grunted, the rough and vulgar words were so different from anything he'd ever uttered to her that Genie looked back over her shoulder -- almost checking to see if this was the same man who'd been slowly seducing her for months.

Their gaze met and EJ tilted his head, wordlessly asking if she liked it. She gave him a little smile, permission to continue on. And so he did.

"I said...open." His hand pulled back from her breast and slapped her thigh. Genie spread her legs wide again, falling back against the bed. Whatever he had done had made it easier for him to dig into her and she was feeling shit anew. "That's what I'm talking about." EJ grunted, lifting a leg to plant his foot against the bed.

He pounded into Genie from behind, picking up speed. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through his body and he couldn't control the moans that escaped his lips. He had nothing on Genie. She cooed and oohed, gushed over him and burrowed her face in the sheets -- almost as if she were embarrassed of the noises he was bringing from her body. Her throat, her pussy, her thighs. They were all loud as fuck, echoing throughout his bedroom.

EJ couldn't think straight, all he could focus on was the intense pleasure coursing through his body with each movement of his hips. Her submissiveness brought it out of him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge with every passing second and knew that neither of them wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"Sir!," she cried out, her voice strained as she curled up and took every thrust. "May I cum? Oh please let me. Please. I was a good girl." She begged him and that sent him damn near over the edge. He looked down at the girl of his dreams -- gripping his sheets, biting her lips, brows furrowed and dripping with sweat. He would give her anything in the fucking world. An orgasm was nothing.

"Go ahead. Cum for me," Ej grunted out, biting down on the sensitive skin of Genie's neck. It sent her over the edge. She spasmed under him, whimpering and grunting as he keep going. She squeezed at him so tightly that stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. "Jesus, fuck..." he whispered as he came hard, white heat igniting every nerve in his body.

They collapsed onto the bed together, panting heavily and still connected

You said you were done. He said he was done let it go. She told herself several times throughout the night. She had drank and donated...and did her best not to cry over the fact that she felt so very alone. She mingled some but her mind was still on him.

It didn't matter what she told Toni. Her heart wanted Jameson. She didn't know if she even be listening to the damn thing but it beat like crazy when she thought of him or saw him. He owned her in a way that made her damn near crazy. How could she let him walk away without seriously considering she'd never see him again?

She just couldn't take it anymore. She unblocked him and sent a text message. One that he didn't answer. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for a response. When it didn't come, she didn't get angry -- she decided she was going to have her way. They were going to figure this shit out. Imani pulled her phone from her clutch, swaying as she dialed the number. Being tipsy helped her put her pride aside.

It rang twice...and then he answered. "Hello?"

She could tell he was hesitant. Hell, she was terrified of what was going to come of it but they needed to do it. They had to get it out. "Come back and get me." She told him softly.

"I don't want to fight anymore, Mani." "We're not fighting. We're talking." "All we seem to do is fight." "And miss each other. Don't we miss me?" "...Yes." "Then get your ass up. Come get me, Daddy. Let's figure it out."

He hesitated for only a minute but then Imani heard him sigh and the sound of keys. "I'm on my way."

#aaron pierre #megan thee stallion #aaron pierre fanfic #megan thee stallion x black!oc #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion fanfic #celebrity fanfic #original characters #oc fanfiction #celebrity fanfiction #celebrity ocs #is this late? YES BUT WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS -- it was christmas and one of us got drunk #anyway!!! enjoy!#or not :)#fic: neon lights #queue

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sass-ruby · 1 day ago

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okay. HOLY FUCKING SHI-

Sun² (dark sun) looks like he's thriving LMAO 😭

Let me just say, THANK YOU MOON FOR BEING SO CURIOUS

I'm curious too, so this satisfied me so much

We got A LOT of information, and one VERY jaw dropping one

So.. sun² created a paradise for himself and others, most likely suns but not every sun. That- that honestly sounds so sweet 😭 I'm pretty sure by psychotic, sun² meant like- do things without thinking, go insane, kill for no reason ect ect.. since he doesn't like violence from what I've been able to gather. The violence he has probably committed, I am guessing was necessary because sun² thinks reasonably

But I wonder- do suns go there when they die? Like, heaven? There are already people there.. but are those people suns or random people??

His dragon is there to be a protector so, it's most likely dead suns I think..? To protect them? That'd be so sweet, I hope that's the case

Goliath died, oof 😭 I never cared much about him but that ONE THING he said to sun once;

"You..might be pathetic, but you're so much more than them."

The fact that EVEN goliath, someone so egotistical, sees sun's morals.. yet others cant and just see it as being cowardly

Our sun has been proven to be the most empathetic among all suns. He HAS done bad, but hasn't continued to do so, he tried his best to make it right. I love him sm I swear

But oh goodness. There is one MOST important jaw dropping lore we got out of sun².

Oh my fucking gosh.

Oh my.

The fact he chose this sun specifically.. BECAUSE HE COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT HIMSELF.

We already knew he was like sun, but moon broke him. Just like how it usually goes in dimensions, here's the thing, though. Even if he did the same back to him, he could NEVER kill him.

Now there's more space to understand why he did it. He couldn't do it, he wanted to give other suns a chance.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

This is too shocking for me I'm sorry

I did not think that SUN² COULDN'T KILL HIS MOON

I guess that was a thing that truly connected all suns before sun's² whole thing

The fact our sun was the first, THE FIRST WHO WAS ABLE TO AND THAT IT WASN'T AN ACCIDENT.

Finally. FINALLY IT'S BEEN PROVEN HE'S SPECIAL IN SOME SORT OF WAY

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG

The "I hate him, but couldn't kill him" thing reminds me kinda of my mother and I, just with different context 😭 like- I hate her but can't hate her completely. I have mommy issues QwQ

I literally sometimes get so mad at how she treats me that I hope she dies.

Although- lets not get into that

The point I was trying to make is, even when you swear you hate someone close to you... ESPECIALLY YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD, you can never completely hate them.

That is only what I've been able to gather from other things like that

ALSO ALSO ALSO aLsOoOoooO

Why did sun² sound so unsure.. at that one part.

"I suppose nexus could sure try, if he was still around. Mumbles if he was still around..."

WHY DID HE SOUND SO UNSURE.

I wouldn't be surprised if he said it like that because he's seen how many times villains come back in this dimension ☠️☠️

LITERALLY I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED

But if nexus comes back, SHIT.

A part of me believes he will. It's after Christmas, and the new tradition is that shit happens after Christmas because the October takeover tradition ended

AAAAAAAAAA

I'll be kinda happy about it, ONLY BECAUSE THE ANGSTTT

YAYAYYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAA

Another also and another woa!! >:D

"why does EVERYTHING have to be US"

"you think I have that answer? Heh, even with my intelligence.. I can never answer that one."

EVEN SUN² ACKNOWLEDGES IT

Because the show runners need to feed us, that's the answer <333

Their lives are something else 😭 they have to deal with something new everyday. They can never catch a break

That would be all. BUT HAHSHHDD I LAUGHED SO HARD SEEING SUN² FLY HELPPPPP

He had his "I was a fairy" moment 🎀 NDNDJSJMS

okay now it's all :3

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

#dark sun tsams #tsams #tsams sun #tsams nexus #dark sun #nexus #nexus tsams #tsams dark sun #sams #sun tsams #moon tsams #daycare attendants #the sun and moon show

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liveyun · 2 days ago

Text

a silent gift | eyes like stars — j.jk

drabble of the series eyes like stars

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem oc/reader

genre. (series) e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation

warnings. (for this drabble) jeongguk and oc are both 15 in this! oc being grumpy and in denial, jealousy and loneliness, toxic parenting and neglect :(, overthinking,, a bit of fluff to balance it out tho 🥹, jungkook is so sweet and he deserves the world , oc is kinda.. rude. + feelings, feelings, a very cute stolen moment. english isn’t my first language so excuse the mistakes, + the ending..

wc. 4k+ wtf happened

divider credits to @issysh3ll ! 🌰

The ceiling above you is a dull, lifeless white.

You stare at it as if it holds the answers to questions you’re too afraid to ask aloud. Your limbs feel heavy, sinking into the lumpy couch you’ve claimed as your refuge. The faint glow of Christmas lights from the window bathes the room in soft, muted hues, but it only makes the emptiness feel sharper. . . colder. . .

You’re alone.

It’s not the kind of aloneness that you savor after a long day or the type that lets you gather your thoughts. No, this is suffocating — the kind that wraps around your chest and pulls tighter with every passing minute. It presses against your ribs and reminds you, with every flicker of those cheery lights outside, that this is what your Christmas looks like.

Your parents’ voices play in your mind, their parting words etched with an offhandedness that stings even now. “You’re a big girl now,” your mother had said, brushing your cheek with cold fingers before hurrying out the door. “You’ll be okay.”

The cash they left sits untouched on the kitchen counter. You hate the sight of it, its crisp edges mocking you, as though money could fill the void they left behind, the empty feeling in your chest.

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, but it doesn’t do much to keep out the chill. Not the one seeping through the windows, nor the one curling inside your chest.

Your gaze drifts toward the window again, where the Jeons’ house glows like a beacon against the cold, dark night. Glows. Even from here, you can hear faint sound of their laughter, the flow of life and warmth spilling from their walls.

Your chest tightens.

You turn away from the window. You close your eyes and try to push it out, but it sneaks back in — along with the memory of that morning.

Mrs. Jeon had called you. She sounded like she was in a crowded place, probably somewhere in the market. You remember her voice, warm and soothing, like honey on a sore throat.

“Sweetheart, come over for Christmas dinner,” she’d said. “We’d love to have you.”

The invitation had been so kind, so genuine, that you’d almost said yes without thinking. Almost.

But then, in the background, you’d heard his voice. Jungkook’s laughter, loud and carefree, floating over the line like an unwelcome reminder of why you couldn’t go.

A spike in your chest, like a thorn pricked in your finger.

You’d stumbled over your words, mumbling some excuse about needing to stay home. You could practically hear Mrs. Jeon frown through the phone.

“Are you sure? It won’t be the same without you here,” she’d pressed gently, her concern as tangible as the warmth in her tone.

Your throat had tightened. “I’m fine,” you’d managed, though the words felt brittle and false.

She hadn’t argued, but you could tell she didn’t believe you.

Now, hours later, her words run through in your mind, looping over and over.

You want to go. You want to be surrounded by the warmth and laughter that seeps through their walls, to feel even a fraction of the joy that seems to radiate from their home.

But you can’t.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because of him.

Or. . . are you just blaming him?

You grit your teeth, hating the way his name lingers on the edge of your thoughts, unspoken but ever-present.

Jungkook.

He’s the reason you can’t bring yourself to cross the street, to knock on their door and accept the invitation that feels both like a lifeline and a trap. You can’t face him. . . at least not tonight.

Not when the sight of him laughing with his family would only twist the knife already lodged in your chest.

You don’t know when it started, this. . . thing. This feeling you can’t name, the one that makes your stomach flip and your heart race whenever he’s near.

You hate it. You hate him.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But deep down—so deep you barely admit it to yourself—you know it’s not true.

Because no matter how much you want to hate him, you can’t. Not really. . .

You sigh, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes as if you can rub the thoughts away. But they don’t budge.

The quiet stretches on, heavy and suffocating. Your stomach growls, but you don’t move. The thought of eating feels pointless, like trying to fill a void that’s far deeper than hunger.

You glance toward the window again, unable to help yourself. The Jeons’ house is as bright and inviting as ever, a stark contrast to the dim, lonely space you call “home”. Trying to read or write feels way too much of a chore, not when you feel like if you move the cold will consume you.

For a moment, just a moment, you imagine what it would be like to be over there.

To sit at their table, surrounded by laughter and warmth. To not feel so. . . alone.

But then, just as quickly, you shove the thought away.

You bury yourself deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket over your head like a shield. You tell yourself you’re fine. You tell yourself you don’t care.

But the lump in your throat, the sting behind your eyes, and the ache in your chest betray you. You want to go to the Jeon house.

You’re not fine. And you do care.

You just wish you didn’t.

────⋆☃︎⋆────

There’s a knock on the door.

Faint, but there. You ignore it, like you ignore every other thought which pops up in your mind. The house is empty. . . nearly empty, anyway. Whoever is in the door would go away.

So you don’t pay much attention.

Knock.

You close your eyes. Your feet are freezing. The visitor can fuck off.

Knock.

The knock comes again, just as soft and insistent as before, like the visitor knows you’re here but is too kind to make a fuss. You hesitate, a bitter taste in your mouth, still wrapped in the cocoon of your blanket, your fingers clutching the edges like it’s your last defense.

The third knock follows, a little firmer this time, and you sigh, dragging yourself toward the door.

Okay, you lose. Peeking through the crack, you catch a glimpse of Mrs. Jeon.

Oh.

Her familiar figure stands in the faint glow of your porch light, snowflakes gently dusting her coat and hat.

She’s holding a plate covered with a red-and-green kitchen towel, and the unmistakable scent of macadamia nut cookies wafts in as soon as you open the door wider.

“Hi, sweetie!” she says with a warm smile. Her voice is soft, laced with the kind of kindness that makes your throat tighten.

You glance at the plate, then back at her, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “Mrs. Jeon?”

“I brought you some cookies, child.” she explains, holding the plate out slightly, her grin bright and sweet like her voice. “I thought you might like a little Christmas treat.”

Your stomach growls, loud and embarrassing.

Uh-oh.. You flush, tightening the blanket around yourself like it could shield you from her gentle gaze. “I’m fine,” you mumble, the words coming out far too quickly.

She tilts her head, her smile growing a little. “Your stomach doesn’t agree.”

“I—” You start to protest, but she interrupts with a soft laugh, brushing snow from her shoulders.

“No need to explain, darling. Just take them.”

You reach for the plate hesitantly, your hands brushing hers as you take it. The warmth of the cookies seeps through the towel, and the scent wraps around you like a hug. Holy shit, you don’t even remember the last time you had freshly baked cookies . . .

“T-Thank you,” you mutter, stepping back into the doorway.

“You’re welcome little darling,” she says easily, but her expression shifts slightly, her eyes searching for yours. “Now, I know you’re planning on staying here all alone, but it’s Christmas, and nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

Your grip on the plate tightens, and you shift awkwardly. “I.. I’m fine, really,” you insist, even as your voice wavers. You cannot look up to her eyes. The kindness they hold, the softness they radiate, you’re sure to crumble down like cookies if you ever look straight to those kind eyes.

She shakes her head gently, her tone soft but unwavering. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just dinner. We’d love to have you.”

The word we makes your chest tighten, your mind immediately jumping to him. “I don’t want to intrude,” you mumble, staring at the cookies.

She lets out a soft chuckle, her hand reaching out to rest lightly on your shoulder. “You’d never intrude. You’re family.”

Family.

The word hits you like a jolt.You glance at her, at the way her eyes crinkle with genuine affection, and something inside you twists painfully.

“I really shouldn’t. . . ” you start, but she interrupts again, her smile turning playful.

“Now, none of that,” she says, her voice firmer but no less kind. “Grab yourself a coat. You don’t wanna be freezing, yes?”

Your gaze drops to the plate, the cookies warm against your palms. You nod slightly, a very warm feeling in your chest settling down. “Okay, but. . . let me put these away first.”

“Of course,” she agrees, her voice lighter now, like she’s won a small battle.

You step back into the house, setting the plate down on the counter and carefully transferring the cookies into a jar.

They feel soft and delicate in your hands, plus the white chocolate chips on the top . . . ! you can’t resist sneaking one into your mouth before you close the lid. Your eyes nearly flutter close as the first taste settles down on your tongue. . . nutty, comforting, sweet and warm.

Chewing quickly, you glance back toward the door where Mrs. Jeon waits patiently. The thought crosses your mind — should I have invited her in? — but it passes as you grab your coat from the back of a chair.

Before you slip it on, though, you pause. “Maybe I should wear something festive,” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the mirror by the door. “I should look nice, right?”

You call the question over your shoulder. “Mrs. Jeon?”

“It’s family, darling,” she responds warmly. “You always look your best to us.”

Her words make you pause, guilt mingling with a faint warmth in your chest. You grab the nearest scarf, something red and soft, and wrap it around your neck. “J-Just a second!”

Her laughter floats in from the doorway. “Take your time, child.”

You tuck the jar of cookies onto a shelf before hurriedly shoving your arms into your coat.

When you finally step outside, she’s still standing there, her smile never faltering despite the cold.

“I-I’m ready,” you say, though your voice comes out quieter than you intended. You feel nervous, almost expecting her to make a comment about your old, worn scarf.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she beams, taking your arm and gently taming a few stray strands of your hair. Her fingers brush your scarf, straightening it slightly, before she dusts off the crumbs from your lips with a soft laugh.

“There,” she says, satisfied. “Now you’re ready.”

The feeling in your chest intensifies.

Her arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as she guides you toward the Jeons’ house. Her warmth seeps into you, her steps sure and steady against the crunch of the snow.

You glance up at her as she hums softly under her breath, her gaze fixed ahead. There’s something about the way she carries herself, so full of ease and care, that it makes you wonder if you’ll ever be as comfortable in your own skin. . .

When you finally reach the Jeons’ door, the laughter and chatter spilling out makes you pause. For a moment, you consider turning back, retreating into the quiet of your own home. But Mrs. Jeon’s grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly, a silent reassurance that steadies you.

“It’s okay, child,” she murmurs as the door opens, the warmth of their home washing over you like a tide. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Her words settle into your chest, soft and steady, and you nod slightly, stepping into the glow of their home.

It’s warm.

It’s the kind of warmth that’s more than just physical, though; it seeps into your chest, wrapping around you like a soft blanket.

The entryway smells of pine and cinnamon, and the soft glow of fairy lights draped around the staircase banister casts the entire space in a golden hue. A small shoe rack lines the wall, neatly arranged with indoor slippers and shoes. Mrs. Jeon nudges you gently.

You slide off your boots and try not to feel self-conscious as you step into the house.

The living room is straight out of a Christmas postcard. . . like the ones you see in magazines.

There’s a beautifully decorated tree in the corner, its branches adorned with red and gold ornaments. Beside it, a few neatly wrapped gifts are stacked, their ribbons catching the light. You feel your heart racing at the thought of presents. How good must it feel to receive presents from someone you love?

You’ve been in their house so many times that navigating through it isn’t a big job, but accidentally stepping on a decoration and ruining it is.

You crane your neck up as you see framed family photos hanging on the walls . . . — holidays, birthdays, candid moments. There’s even a framed picture of Jungkook as a baby, his toothless grin making you pause.

Cute.

“Ah, there she is!” Mr. Jeon’s voice booms from the kitchen doorway, already dressed as Santa, but he’s wearing bermuda shorts instead. His face lights up as he strides toward you, his apron dusted with what looks like flour. “You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Mrs. Jeon laughs softly beside you. “It took a little convincing.”

“A little?” He quirks an eyebrow at her, then turns back to you with an exaggerated grin. “You mean you actually succeeded in persuading her? I’m impressed, love.”

You manage a small smile, feeling your cheeks warm as he ruffles your hair like you’re still the same little girl who used to kiss his cheeks for a toffee every evening. “We’re glad you’re here, kiddo.” he says, his voice softer now, full of genuine warmth.

“T-Thanks for having me,” you mumble, feeling awkward and unsure of where to place your hands.

“You’re always welcome,” he replies easily, gesturing toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Mrs. Jeon nudges you forward gently, guiding you into the heart of their home. The room feels alive, filled with the faint sounds of Christmas music playing from a vinyl recorder and the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

You settle onto the couch hesitantly, your hands folded in your lap as your eyes roam the space. Everywhere you look, there’s another memory framed — photos of family vacations, certificates, and little trinkets.

It just makes you realise you barely have any photo frames back in your own house.

On the shelf beside the sofa, nestled between two larger frames, is a photo of you and Jungkook. You don’t even remember when it was taken — maybe last. . . summer? — but there you are, smiling wide and carefree, with his arm slung casually around your shoulders, both looking like dorks grinning under the sun.

Your stomach twists.

The photo feels like a piece of home you didn’t know you were missing, but it also reminds you of what you don’t have. To be carefree. To be. . . happy.

You tear your gaze away quickly, focusing instead on the glow of the Christmas lights. But the feeling doesn’t leave—it sits heavy in your chest, a reminder of all the ways you feel like you don’t belong.

Mrs. Jeon appears moments later, handing you a warm mug of tea. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she says, sitting beside you and resting a gentle hand on your knee. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nod quickly, forcing a small smile. “Y-Yeah, thank you.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes soft and understanding, before giving your knee a gentle pat. “You’re home here, you know,” she says quietly.

Home. You nod again, murmuring another thank you before taking a sip of tea to distract yourself.

The warmth of the tea doesn’t quite reach the cold knot in your stomach, though, and as the minutes pass, the room’s liveliness feels almost overwhelming. You glance around, watching the Jeons move seamlessly around each other, their laughter and conversation filling the space with a kind of ease that feels foreign to you.

It’s not that your parents are cruel—they’ve never been anything but practical, efficient, busy. But sitting here, in the midst of the Jeons’ warmth and love, you can’t help but feel the sharp contrast.

The way they joke with each other, the way Mr. Jeon steals a kiss from his wife as she passes by, the way the house feels alive — it’s so different from the quiet, cold efficiency of your own home.

Your parents are either always fighting, on each other’s throats, and when they’re not, they’re on yours. There’s always these two options — nothing in between, nothing after.

Your gaze drifts back to the photo on the shelf, and the bitterness bubbles up again, sharp and unforgiving. You try to focus on the warmth of the mug in your hands, on the hum of conversation around you, but it’s no use.

You feel like a puzzle piece in the wrong box—close, but never quite fitting.

────⋆☃︎⋆────

The soft patter of footsteps pulls your attention toward the staircase.

Jungkook stands at the landing, the dim Christmas lights casting a warm glow over him. His face is flushed with the kind of easy joy you used to know so well, framed by a mess of dark hair that falls softly over his forehead. The thick, oversized sweater he’s wearing swallows his frame, its sleeves hiding his hands as he shifts awkwardly in place.

His jeans are slightly loose, cuffed at the bottom, and you catch a glimpse of fuzzy socks that make something in your chest twist unexpectedly.

But it’s his eyes that hold you captive, even if only for a moment. They’re wide, sparkly from the reflection of the lights, and impossibly soft as they lock onto yours. Innocent. Earnest.

A little too happy to see you.

Your breath catches, and for a second, you feel like you’re drowning — pulled into something you don’t quite understand, something that makes your heart stutter painfully in your chest. His face morphs from sheer surprise to that of great joy, his eyes lighting up like . . . stars, though you try to reason that they’re just the lights.

“Hey!” he says, his voice breaking through the haze. It’s cheerful, just like his face, and he’s already bounding down the stairs like a puppy too excited to sit still.

He nearly trips on the last step, catching himself with a sheepish grin, and it only makes him look more endearing.

You hate how cute he is.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he says, his grin widening as he comes closer. His sweater sleeves flap slightly as he raises a hand to scratch the back of his head, his shoulders shifting with boyish awkwardness. “Eomma’s been trying all day to get you over here.”

You can’t stop staring, and it makes your chest ache in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He’s warm, in every sense of the word, and for a moment, you think it might actually burn you.

You wrench your gaze away, gripping the mug in your hands so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter. “She convinced me.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, shuffling his feet like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” His voice softens, and it’s so tender, so genuine, it nearly undoes you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The warmth in his voice feels too much, too close, and you hate it.

Hate the way it makes your chest feel tight and your head feel heavy.

So you pull yourself back, withdrawing behind the walls you’ve carefully built. “Yeah . . . I guess,” you mutter, barely glancing up.

For a split second, you see his smile falter, the light in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. He recovers quickly, his grin returning, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression.

“Still as talkative as ever,” he teases gently, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop, just a little.

You swallow the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to look away. “I’m just. . . tired,” you say, the words clipped.

He nods, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he steps back, his voice soft. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

And just like that, the warmth is gone, leaving you colder than before. You hear him retreat, his footsteps growing quieter, and the bitterness you’ve been clinging to feels hollow. You feel terrible. Shitty.

Why did you even do that?

Mrs. Jeon squeezes your shoulder, her touch firm but kind. When you glance up, her eyes are knowing, her expression gentle.

“He was so happy you came,” she says softly.

The ache in your chest only deepens.

────⋆☃︎⋆────

The night air is crisp, biting against your cheeks as you sit by the glowing bonfire.

You pull your knees to your chest, burying your hands under your arms in a futile attempt to stay warm. There’s this quiet crackle of the fire fills the space, the occasional pop echoing in the stillness of the yard.

Dinner had been. . . . a lot. You’d felt impossibly guilty throughout. Mr. Jeon had been all jokes and warmth, constantly refilling your plate despite your half-hearted protests. Mrs. Jeon had been the epitome of kindness, making sure you had everything you needed.

And then there was Jungkook.

He’d barely said much to you, only offering small smiles and passing glances, but each one had sent a pang of something sharp and unrelenting through your chest. He’d nudged your calf lightly under the table, trying to get you to take the hotteok he’d placed on your plate.

When you ignored him, pretending to be too busy with your food, he’d silently taken it back, the disappointment in his eyes so subtle it almost went unnoticed. Almost.

You’d wanted to say something, to apologize for how grumpy you’d been, but the words had tangled in your throat.

Why are you such a coward? Why is it so difficult for you to look him in his eyes and not be so mean?

Now, sitting alone by the fire, the warmth of the day still lingers faintly, like an aftertaste. And it’s not bitter. For once, you feel full — not just from the food, but from something deeper, something unfamiliar.

This house, this family, they feel like the kind of love you’ve only ever read about in books. It makes your chest ache, makes you want to cry, and you don’t even know why.

“Hey.”

His voice startles you, soft and familiar. Jungkook. You glance up, and there he is, standing a few feet away with a shawl draped loosely around his shoulders. His cheeks are pink from the cold, his hair a little mussed from the wind. The glow of the fire reflects in his eyes, making them look impossibly warm.

You swallow hard, looking away. “H-hey.”

“You look cold.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate. You blink up at him, confused, as he sits down behind you and opens his arms, spreading the shawl over your shoulders in one smooth motion.

“Wh-what are you—”

“Sharing,” he says simply, wrapping an arm around you to hold the shawl in place. His voice is light, almost teasing, but there’s a quiet sincerity in the way he pulls you closer, his warmth seeping into your side.

Your chest is about to burst out.

Your heart thunders in your chest, and you’re sure he can feel it, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he reaches up to smooth your hair, his touch gentle. Soft.

“Eomma does this, you know,” he says softly, his fingers combing through your hair. “When I’m upset. It helps.”

You squeak, your whole body stiffening, but he only chuckles, the sound low and comforting. He’s so close now, his steady heartbeat thumping against your upper back.

“Relax, dummy.” he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “It’s just me.”

Just him. That’s the problem, isn’t it?

You want to be mad, want to shove him away and demand why he has to be so. . . so him. How he always looks up to you as the friends you two always have been . . . But you can’t. For some reason, you’ve understood today that not only are you a coward, but also very weak.

“I. . . ” You start to say something, anything, but the words dissolve before they can form.

Instead, you let yourself lean into him, just a little. His heartbeat is steady, a comforting rhythm against your own erratic one. You can’t bring yourself to apologize, but you hope he can feel it in the way you let yourself rest against him.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. The fire crackles softly, the world around you growing quieter. . . warmer.

Slowly, your eyes grow heavy, your body sinking into his warmth as exhaustion takes over.

You fall asleep with your head against his shoulder.

Your brows are still faintly pinched, like you’re fighting off a troubling thought even in your dreams.

Jungkook stays completely still, his heartbeat steady as he watches you. There’s a softness in his gaze, a quiet wonder, like he can’t believe you’re here, like he doesn’t know what to do with the way his chest feels so warm.

Hesitantly, his hand rises to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingertips linger, ghosting gently over your cheek. It’s a small, familiar motion — one he’s picked up from watching his mother. His thumb strokes your cheekbone with the utmost care, almost like he’s afraid he’ll wake you if he moves too quickly.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re not glaring at me, you know that?” he whispers, though he knows you can’t hear him.

From the corner of his eye, a movement catches his attention.

He glances toward the house and freezes when he sees his mother standing at the kitchen window. Her arms are crossed, her expression practically glowing with amusement. She doesn’t say anything, just raises her brows at him with a playful smirk that makes his whole face flush.

Jungkook’s hand quickly drops from your cheek, and he hunches his shoulders like that might somehow make him invisible. His mouth opens, ready to deny whatever it is she’s clearly thinking, but no words come out. Instead, he huffs, pulling the shawl tighter around both of you and burrowing his face into your hair in an effort to hide.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” he mumbles, as if she can hear him through the window.

When her footsteps fade back into the house, he lets out a shaky breath, glancing down at you. You’re still sound asleep, your face soft in the firelight but not without its usual furrowed brows.

His heart squeezes; you even look grumpy in your dreams. Somewhat. . . troubled.

That’s when he remembers.

He wiggles a hand into the pocket of his PJs, fishing out a small, clumsily wrapped package. The corners are wrinkled, the tape slightly askew, but the tiny red bow on top makes up for it . . . or, at least he thinks so.

His fingers hesitate over it.

Maybe it’s a dumb idea. Maybe you won’t even like it. But. . .

Carefully, as if any sudden movement might wake you, he nudges the present into your lap, tucking it snugly beneath the edge of the shawl.

His lips twitch upward at the sight. Satisfied, he leans back just a little, his arms still holding you steady.

He rests his chin atop your head, smiling to himself, silently vowing that no matter how grumpy you act tomorrow, you’ll surely smile when you see what’s inside.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, his words meant only for you.

a/n : aw 🥹 i would really love to hear what you think! i would also recommend you read the original series to get a glimpse of their world <3 merry belated christmas. i hope you smile a bit more today 🤍

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts series #jungkook series #bts x reader #bts x you #bts au #bts fics #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #fic : eyes like stars

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elainsgirl · 16 hours ago

Note

I just had to let this out: I was lurking on Elriel edits on tiktok and saw lot's of comments on why people prefer Elucien or Gwynriel and it's always one of the following reasons: it's too predictable, 3 sisters and 3 brothers, Elain doesn't deserve Az or can't handle his darkness. Always one of these.

Like they don't even bother to list as to why they want their own ship or have solid reasons aside from how they don't like Elriel so they like another.

It almost sounds like: Elriel isn't good so I want ... or ... ship.

It's amazing how most like/want their own ship because of their dislike for Elain/Elriel.

I can't wait for her book to come out so that Sjm can prove how all had been wrongly judging Elain's power and personality ❤️. How she has an amazing strength and is beautiful inside and out. How she is strong enough to handle Azriel's darkness, altough I think the main reason Azriel wants to be around Elain is because he admires and loves her light/her peacefulness.

I also want more to realize that Azriel has this domestic side which longs for the peace and quiet that Elain can offer in relationship. Them sitting in the garden and her baking bread while he taking it from her like the husband of the house. These are already shown to us. I just hate how people ignore that some couple are like this and if that is boring and predictable to you then maybe read some mystery romances that are less predictable as to who will end up with who 😬.

Elriel is so beautiful and underrated within the fandom that it hurts 🤧

They are all thropes together. Opposite attract yet also very similar to each other, forbidden love and pining/yearning, dark and light/ moody and sunshine, friends to lovers and maybe also love at first sight since we don't know much about their POV yet and to when exactly the attraction started. And I can go on and on

Hey anon 🫶

Saying elriel is too predictable is so funny because thats the point. You’ve successfully managed to pick up the foreshadowing Sjm was laying out, Nessian were predictable and obvious yet no one cared as much. 3 sisters x 3 brothers is literally fate and seems predestined which is the whole point of the acotar series. Idk I just think if you really hate the direction the series is going in you can always dnf instead of criticising it. It is a book from the fantasy genre which is often filled with cliches or repetitive plots. Im not even going to argue w Elain not being able to handle Azriels darkness- those antis just coddle elain and treat her as some oblivious child.

Most antis only ship Ga/El bcs they just dont like elriel. With the other ships they’re so undeveloped that you can shape them to be however you want which is 10x more favourable.

YES! I can’t wait for Elains book to change so many peoples minds about her and show how much of a beautiful strong character she is in her own way, a different kind of strength. Im hopinh Elains character makes more people opem to softer coded fmcs. I agree, Elain seems to offer Az peace and quiet. Two people that can just exist together, understanding and truly seeing the other the way no one else has. She isn’t afraid of Azriel, his powers or scars and he didn’t back down and act as though she was crazy during acowar. They’re not afriad of each other. I truly love how Mass wrote them to be & cant wait for her to explore them more. Azriel’s domestic side always comes out with Elain and its just the cutest watching the big, scary shadowsinger blush bcs of Elain, taking her out, flying with her etc.

Elriel truly have the best tropes, and I know more people would like them if Lucien wasn’t Elains mate or Elain was more Nesta/Gwyn coded which sucks but these same people will read the elriel book and maybe change their mind - and see the amazing couple they were missing out on for years 🤭

I think thats one thing im really intrigued to know - Elain and Azriels first impressions. What was going through Azriels mind when he smiled at Elain clutching her fork. What did Elain see in Az that put her at ease and made her ask him questions. There’s so much backstory for elriel that I hope Mass writes and gives to us.

#Also antis need to stay on their side of tiktok #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron

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imthepunchlord · 19 hours ago

Text

Fear

Read more here.

The secondary bell sounded off, and Seiko froze at its chime, looking up to meet Turbo Granny’s gaze from their game. Seiko slowly turned, to stare at the door, seeing a dark shape on the other side. She took a drag of her cigarette, anticipating trouble.

She had wards placed all around her home to discourage the visit of all yokai, mainly to settle down Okarun and discourage any territory guarding.

For one to come despite the wards, that meant it was powerful, or it was welcomed.

Of those that were welcomed, to set off that chime, concerned her more than the possibility of a powerful yokai treading into her home.

Seiko arose, grasping Nessie and headed for the door. Bracing for trouble, she flung it open, ready for an attack.

The attack didn’t come, but it didn’t stop Seiko from being startled.

Four Eyes stood before her, but it wasn’t quite him anymore.

This… this was the most monstrous she’s ever seen him.

There was no trace of humanity to be seen in his features. The black maw molded over his face entirely, cracked open, showing a second set of teeth in his mouth, constantly spewing black smoke. His glasses seemed to become his eyes, big and glowing, merged into the mask. The white hair had become a flaming mane, with red wisps flickering over the locks. He stood on four long, gangly limbs, his back covered by the smoke he breathed out, and Seiko noted his hands had been morphed into misshapen paws, though still retaining a semblance of human hands. Though barely.

There was a hissing rumble from Four Eyes, his voice deep and changed, sounding very much like demonic rasp, his teeth clacking together as the inner maw moved. It almost sounded difficult to speak.

“Momo. She got hurt. Help. Her.”

It was then that Seiko noticed one of his hands was cupped beneath him. Pressed to his chest protectively was her granddaughter, unconscious, with a bloody face.

Seiko swore, instinctively moving to reach for her only to freeze when Four Eyes hissed dangerously, taking a step back, bringing Momo even closer to him.

“Four Eyes,” Seiko warned.

“She can’t help her if you hold her, Idiot,” Turbo Granny grouched behind Seiko.

Turbo Granny got an angry hiss for that, but it seems the logic reasoned out for the yokai. Reluctantly, he held out Momo, as gently as he could.

Seiko didn’t take Momo from him yet, still wary to set Four Eyes, but she did take the chance to look over Momo. Thankfully, from what Seiko can assess, there was nothing too drastic. A bad scrape on her forehead, but it seems she just got knocked out.

Seiko drew away, pointing to the door. “Bring her inside,” she instructed.

With a deep rumble, Four Eyes did so, heavily lumbering in, smoke trailing behind him. Going to the den, he laid Momo out on the mat on the floor and laid down beside her, the empty glowing gaze seemingly locked on her.

Tentatively moving around Four Eyes, Seiko got to work, wiping and cleaning the wound before she bandaged it up. Then making a quick prayer, Seiko used her divine power to check over Momo and heal anything else.

Seiko drew away, declaring, “She’s all set.”

She quickly leaned when that big black maw came towards her.

“Not awake.”

“She’ll wake up when she wakes up, Brat,” Turbo Granny grouched.

With an agitated growl, Four Eyes slammed his paw-hand on Turbo Granny, pinning the angry cat down.

“Get off me!” Turbo Granny snarled.

“She’s right, Four Eyes,” Seiko said. “She just needs rest. And you need to calm down.”

Those literal glassy eyes turned towards her.

“You’re practically a full blown yokai right now. You’re too volatile and that makes you dangerous.”

Four Eyes snarled, clacking his maw dangerously, “I won’t hurt her.”

“I don’t trust your word,” Seiko stated flatly. “Not when I see how easily Turbo Granny is able to get under your skin.”

Four Eyes turned to eye the snarling cat, then released her. Instead of running away, Turbo Granny went to leap at his face and try to claw at him. Only to not even deliver a scratch at the hardened flesh that covered his face. Eventually, Turbo Granny dropped down, exhausted from trying to make a dent in that hardened face.

Seiko continued, “If you're not able to calm down, I will make wards to keep you out.”

Four Eyes was quiet for a moment, and in a pleading rasp, he promised, “Calm down. I calm down. No send away.”

He turned his glassy gaze to Momo, repeating desperately, “No send away.”

Seiko took in the pleading request, watching the yokai settle himself down, reaching for in a shy touch. He seemed to forget about them as he lay there, awaiting for Momo to awaken. Breathing out her own smoke, Seiko repeated, “You get one chance, Four Eyes. Do anything I don’t like and you’re out.”

He didn’t respond, just locked on Momo.

Seiko got up, grumbling about getting dinner started, making sure to stay vigilant in case Four Eyes did anything.

It was nearly an hour when Momo awoke, roused by the smell of dinner. She groaned, feeling achy, groggy, and hungry. Not ready to open her eyes, she mumbled out, “Whaz’s dinner te’night?”

She was about to sit up when she felt a familiar hard maw immediately pressed against her, blowing hot breath in her face.

“Okaruuun,” she whined, “give me a minute.”

Though try as she might, she couldn’t get that maw to move away. Momo decided then to use him as a means to help sit up, wincing at the dizziness she felt. Okarun thankfully stayed still, letting her lounge on his face until she collected herself.

“Dinner's going to be dumplings,” Gran answered from the kitchen.

Momo hummed at that, finally opening her achy eyes.

And saw two big, glassy, glowing eyes peering back at her intently, framed by bright red lines.

Momo fought the instinctive response to jerk back, immediately recognizing Okarun’s aura in front of her. She did sit back, taking in his monstrous appearance, how he loomed over her and seemed to take over the den with his size and presence.

“Okarun?” Momo asked, struggling with this new form.

“Momo,” he growled, and she could almost hear the hint of affection and relief. He drew near to gently nuzzle her, his long gangly arms coming to wrap around her—

A dumpling hit the big glassy eye, making the yokai pause.

“She literally just woke up, Four Eyes, give her some breathing room.”

Okarun didn't move right away to obey, if anything, his arms twitched as if he was going to fully pull Momo into his hold. Momo lightly pushed against his maw and Okarun eased away, a big long tongue coming out to lick up the dumpling on his face.

“What happened to him?” Momo asked as Seiko brought the food in, setting it on the table.

“Was hoping you'd know.”

Okarun’s long nail slid the platter of dumplings to Momo.

“Eat.”

Seiko slammed her chopsticks onto the platter, scooting it back to the center. “This is a family meal.”

Okarun hissed at Seiko. “Momo hurt.”

“I'm not eating all of that, Okarun,” Momo stated. Though she did grab a couple for herself, just in time for Turbo Granny to run in to join them, starting to fight Seiko for the other dumplings.

Momo tried offering a dumpling to Okarun but his maw stayed shut. He just kept staring down at her expectantly.

“So what were you facing?” Seiko asked.

“Some damn bounty hunter alien the Serpo hired,” Momo grouched. “Caught us by surprise.”

“Luckily it was nothing serious, at worst a knockout.”

Okarun made a sort of hissing noise, Momo suspected it to be a sigh.

“Four Eyes here I expect got scared and mad,” Seiko gave him an eyeball, “until he calms down, he won't be back to normal.”

Momo shot him a concerned look. “Like, I'm ok. I'm awake and fine. Are you still scared, Okarun?”

“Yes.”

“And mad?”

“Yes.”

“Well, damn, sorry for getting caught off guard.”

Okarun immediately nuzzled Momo, rumbling out, “I'm sorry. You hurt.” He clacked his maw, growling deeply, “Never again.”

Momo recalled the day of her abduction, of Okarun coming to her aid through Turbo Granny's rampage. She remembered his passionate promise to become a monster for her safety. She wondered now if that promise always stuck with him, and that affected his cursed form.

Momo finished her meal, bid her thanks, and announced she was heading to her room.

“Keep your door open,” Seiko said.

“I will,” Momo eased with a grumble, going up the stairs.

Okarun arose to follow unprompted, his steps heavy behind her, making the stairs groan in protest under his weight. Momo tried to ignore how his breath was always at the back of her neck with how close he followed her.

She got some relief when she reached her room, Okarun lingering by the door despite Momo leaving it open for him. She turned to him, stating, “I’m going to clean up and change clothes. Turn away.”

Okarun didn’t move right away, then he shuffled in place, turned away from her and laid down in front of her room. Momo frowned. He was so big that his form blocked off most of the door. Freshening up and changing, Momo plopped herself down on bed with a sigh, feeling the mattress bounce her. Glancing at the yokai still laid out on the floor, she called, “You can come join me now.”

Okarun shifted to life, his body groaning as he moved, shuffling to face her with bright, glowing eyes. He hesitated for a moment before he took a step into her room, maneuvering a little as he was almost too big for her door. He came to loom over her, casting a dark shadow over her. One paw-hand came up, to test the mattress, and it dipped so low and groaned so loud, Okarun drew away as Momo started to roll towards him.

Adjusting herself to sit up, Okarun settled just his head on the bed, sighing out dramatically.

Ignoring the gloomy aura he was giving off, Momo shuffled closer to his head. With a gentle touch, she started to probe and explore this new head. It felt like his whole face was covered in a hardened mask, with nothing of his human features to be seen. She lightly tapped the glasses, finding they really were molded into this new head. She wondered if they were made to be more durable in this form. Lastly she reached for his hair, feeling the soft, ethereal locks curl around her hand as they weaved and swayed.

The whole time, Okarun stayed still as Momo explored him, enjoying her touch and attention.

“Dang, Okarun,” Momo voiced, “you really took this to the extreme.”

“I will go farther,” Okarun promised, but it didn’t bring her the assurance he was aiming for, but a frown.

“What if you go so far, you don't come back?” Momo protested. “Can you transform back? Why haven't you?”

“Still scared. You scared me.”

“I'm probably going to scare you a lot,” Momo admitted. Okarun leaned forward, nuzzling her. She hugged his head back, continuing, “And you're probably going to scare me too.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t either.” She rested her head on top of his own, feeling his hair curl and shift under her cheek. One finger came up, tracing along the red lines, feeling the rough, ridged mask under her fingertip. She declared, “I miss your squishy face.”

“...I miss laying in bed.” He leaned heavily on the mattress, making it groan. “Makes me wilt…”

“Then you gotta figure out how to change back,” Momo said unhelpfully.

“Momo…” he groaned, almost sounding pitiful.

In a small bit of mercy, Momo offered, “Maybe you just need to ride it out.” Staring back into his glassy eyes, she rambled, “Sometimes you just can’t lid what you feel, sometimes it explodes out and takes over and, you just need to ride that wave and let it pass. It’s going to be rough, but,” she shrugged with uncertainty, “sometimes it just can’t be helped.”

Gran sometimes grumbled that Momo got too emotional.

And Momo herself can acknowledge that sometimes she responded too extremely. Her own emotions got the better of her and cut through any of her clever logic. That she’s caused him problems because of it.

She’s made the effort to get better, and had some reassurance from Grandma that the emotions themselves aren’t bad, they were there for her and reflected who she was, it’s all about the outlet.

Gazing at Okarun, his emotions really did bring out a big outlet. “So, maybe just let it be, those emotions should fade after a while.” It was calm here, he should relax here, right?

Okarun sighed out some smoke. “What a bummer.”

“Yeah, I’d love to cuddle with my boyfriend right now.”

She fell back on the bed, pouting at the ceiling, inwardly cursing the Serpo, and herself for getting Okarun into this position. Only to squeal when Okarun nudged her side, hitting that right spot that made her ticklish.

“Don’t do that!” she cried out, rolling away from him, glaring over her shoulder to see him clacking his teeth. If she didn’t know better, he was snickering at her.

Then Okarun stood up, his hunched form easily coming to tower over her, straining against her ceiling.

“Okarun?” Momo asked, peering up at the looming yokai. His whole frame was shadowed now, with only his big glowing glasses to shine down at her. She knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but she can’t deny that this was intimidating.

Tentatively, Okarun set his hands on either side of her bed, and started to ease him on the bed carefully, spreading his weight as much as possible for the groaning frame. Gradually, he laid himself on the bed, though his legs stuck out on it, Momo partially nestled underneath him. With a bit of squirming, Momo got herself comfortable, hugging his arm as she settled. Reaching out with her “hand”, she pulled back the latest book she’s been reading, offering to read it aloud.

Okarun gave no answer, but didn’t move, happy to hold and cuddle with her.

With a shrug, she started to read her book aloud, until her voice got laced with grogginess, and her eyes started to get heavy. It didn’t take much longer for her to fall to the temptation of sleep, safe in the yokai’s arms. Only to be jarred awake when Okarun started to twitch.

He himself had gone lax for a while, and not long after she had settled, only now his body started to spasm. Momo laid still, watching as he shrunk down until he was back to himself, his hair dark, no traces of grey skin or red lines on him. Though his clothes were ruined from the elongated transformation. Returned to normal as he was, he still partially laid on top of her, holding her tight with one arm.

Reaching out, she took off his glasses and set them out on the nightstand, then she brought out some of her baggier clothes for him with her telekinesis, so they’ll be available when he wakes. She yawned and wiggled in his hold. She gave one last poke to his now squishy face, grinning as he made a face, before she relaxed in his grasp.

If Okarun shifted like that again, she hoped cuddles were enough to help soothe the beast, at least until he was able to figure it out himself.

Okarun's form is based on this really cool design drawn by @cnmcn

#dandadan #dandadan fic #momo ayase #okarun #yokai okarun #turbo okarun #seiko ayase #ken takakura #turbo granny

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slaymitchabernathy · 1 day ago

Text

Staking the Claim

| “Nothin' happened in the way I wanted, every corner of this house is haunted. And I know you said that we're not talkin', but I miss you, I'm sorry.” |

Coriolanus Snow has sat in many offices.

It’s a way of life. He’s sat in front offices at school, doctor’s offices, work offices.

He’s never sat in a lawyer’s office until today.

Because today the divorce is being finalized.

He drums his fingers against the mahogany desk, thinking of where it went wrong and how this divorce will affect him and his reputation for the rest of his life.

He tried to be good, a good husband, a good partner, a good father. But he wasn’t and neither of them could try anymore, try to make it work.

Divorce is highly frowned upon in their elite circles, only occurring in cases of abuse but never has he laid a hand on his wife. But he’s definitely said things and she has too. It’s better this way.

It’s better this way.

“This will be quick,” his lawyer, Mr. Nimbus promises him with a polite smile, “we’ve already gotten all of the hard work out of the way. All that’s left is to sign the last few papers and it’ll be done.”

Eight years down the drain, boiled down to a few sheets of paper and scribbles from a pen.

Coriolanus still remembers the first time he ever laid eyes on his wife. He had been walking to the library when he caught a glimpse of her bright blonde hair headed to the courtyard. He was suddenly very interested in the courtyard.

He followed her there and couldn’t help but notice how the scent of vanilla seemed to follow her everywhere. After watching her for a few days, he worked up the courage to properly introduce himself to her.

Soarynn Nightingale was beautiful. She was kind, talented, generous, and so thoughtful of others. She was one in a million and he was one lucky man. She stood by his side through everything, through graduation, through University and until the last two months, his aspiring political career.

Coriolanus plans on becoming President one day.

This wasn’t something he had ever mentioned to Soarynn who never yearned for a place in the spotlight like he did. No, she was more than content to start their own little family and live a quiet, comfortable life.

That wasn’t good enough for Coriolanus though. He wanted more, needed more and in the end, it drove her away.

At first he didn’t understand why she’d ever suggest separating. They had a family, a daughter. How could she put their little girl through that?

But after reading through her file, her statements and reasoning behind this divorce, he understood where he went wrong. He pushed Soarynn to the edge with the late nights, long hours, high expectations and little reward. He became less affectionate, more cynical and critical.

There were days where he didn’t even see his wife or daughter and Soarynn eventually had enough of it.

It had caused quite a stir in their circles. Their wedding had been a high society wedding, watched by all and admired by many. Soarynn had been a beautiful bride and it had been a very expensive wedding.

He can’t believe it’s over.

The door opens and he sits up straighter, refusing to look over his shoulder, to look at her.

Their lawyers greet each other, he knows her lawyer, he’s been the Nightingale’s lawyer for years now. Once Soarynn filed for divorce, her father, Glen Nightingale made sure that his daughter demanded and received everything she deserved.

Soarynn and their daughter Ceraphina have been staying with Glen since then, leaving Coriolanus with an empty penthouse to come home to every night.

It’s an eerie, terrible feeling. To walk into his daughter’s room with all her toys but find it empty squeezes his heart. To walk into their bedroom and not see Soarynn lying on their bed or sitting at her vanity goes against everything he’s ever known.

He even finds it strange not to see Petunia prancing around their apartment, leaving little tufts of white fur wherever she goes.

Soarynn’s lawyer takes his seat next to Mr. Nimbus and Soarynn takes her seat next to Coriolanus. The scent of vanilla washes over him and he glances at her from the corner of his eye. He hasn’t seen her for a few weeks, he’s been busy with his campaign and she’s been busy doing her best to care for their daughter while dealing with this divorce.

Coriolanus isn’t a glutton for punishment and neither is Soarynn, which has led to this being a rather quiet and civilized divorce. There have been whispers about it of course, it’s not everyday a prominent Capitol couple calls it quits.

But Soarynn hasn’t run off to the tabloids to sell their secrets and he’s so very grateful for that.

She’s never been one to kick others when they’re down.

“Let’s get started then,” Mr. Nimbus grunts, opening the file in front of him, “I believe we are here to discuss the custody of Ceraphina Snow and who will be taking possession of the Snow penthouse on the Corso.”

Soarynn’s lawyer opens up his briefcase, pulling out his own documents.

“Yes, Ms. Nightingale has filed for her to have sole custody of their daughter, Ceraphina Snow. Visitations will be permitted, unsupervised as long as they are properly scheduled and approved by Ms. Nightingale.”

It feels like there’s water in his ears.

Coriolanus can’t imagine not seeing his daughter every day, not hearing her laugh, not seeing her smile up at him like he’s the greatest man in the world.

The masculine, dominant part in him wants to fight for her, to demand that he be given full custody or at least half.

But can he do that to his little girl?

He still remembers the night he came home to Soarynn packing her things into a suitcase, how livid he had been when he saw her packing Ceraphina’s things too.

“You can’t take my daughter away from me,” he had claimed, filled with anger and frustration.

“She’s my daughter too Coriolanus,” Soarynn had reminded him, closing her suitcase, “and it won’t be any different, you barely see her as it is.”

She was right.

Coriolanus has been offered a handful of opportunities to see Ceraphina since they moved out and he’s only taken a few due to his busy schedule. From what he’s heard, she spends every second with Soarynn, going shopping, going to the park, out to eat with friends.

Should he fight for custody of her, she’ll grow up with a nanny rather than her mother and he can’t do that to her.

He loves her too much.

“Give her full custody,” Coriolanus says to Mr. Nimbus, clearing his throat, “I’ll pay whatever child support the court decides on.”

Mr. Nimbus looks puzzled by his sudden and clear decision but Coriolanus knows what needs to be done. If he loves his daughter, which he does, then he’ll let Soarynn raise her. And he’ll visit when he can, take her out for little dates, remind her how much he loves her and how much Soarynn loves her as well.

She’s a spitting image of her mother in both looks and kindness and he’d be a monster to take that spark away from her.

He finally gains to courage to look over at Soarynn and he can see the relief in her face, the tears in her eyes. Her hands are shaking and she nods, blowing out a deep breath, “I agree to those terms,” she says softly.

Coriolanus wants to reach out to her. He wants to grab her hand and wipe her tears because she shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t have come here prepared to put up a fight to have custody of their daughter.

But she did and he can’t.

Nothing has happened in the way he wanted.

Mr. Nimbus scratches several things out on his documents and warily eyes Coriolanus, “Then it’s come down to the penthouse which might I remind everyone, is an ancestral home to the Snows, dating back to the beginning of Panem.”

Coriolanus remembers the day Soarynn moved into his penthouse. How she transformed it, made it into a home. He remembers their first night together, baking cookies in the kitchen, dancing in the living room. He remembers brining Ceraphina home from the hospital after she was born, just a tiny little thing.

Every corner of that penthouse is haunted.

“He can keep it,” Soarynn tells her lawyer who is now the one who looks surprised. Coriolanus is shocked as well, she put so much time and effort into transforming the penthouse, making it more timeless, a space to pass down for generations.

She tears her gaze away from the desk and looks at Coriolanus, taking his breath away, “It’s yours,” she says, “we’ll live with my father in my own ancestral home.”

Coriolanus doesn’t quite know what to say, while Soarynn came prepared to fight for their daughter, he came prepared to fight for his home.

It seems that they’re both full of surprises today.

“I agree to those terms,” he finally says, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

Their lawyers probably came here prepared to throw down and put up a nasty fight but neither parties seem interested in watching the other person bleed.

They’ve both been hurt in different ways.

All that’s left is to sign the papers.

“Sign here, here, and here,” Mr. Nimbus says to Soarynn, pointing at several dotted lines on different documents. She looks at her lawyer who nods, all terms have been looked over and agreed upon. He’ll keep the penthouse, Soarynn will keep Ceraphina who will be able to see her father whenever she pleases. Soarynn will inherit the money she’s entitled to and Coriolanus will keep the rest.

She signs the last line and holds out the pen to Coriolanus who slowly takes it from her hand.

He stares down at the papers in front of him. He can’t believe it’s come to this. He wishes he could go back, change the past, be a better man, a better father, a better husband.

But he can see how tired she is, how exhausting this has all been for her. Coriolanus hasn’t stopped loving Soarynn and he knows she hasn’t stopped loving him either but if you love something, then you let it go.

He signs the papers, finalizing their divorce in black ink.

After documents have been filed away, everyone stands. Their lawyers shake hands and whisper things to their clients who are both quiet.

Mr. Nimbus gives Coriolanus a pat on the shoulder, “Good luck with your campaign, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus nods, watching him leave the room.

Soarynn’s lawyer gives her arm a friendly squeeze and follows Nimbus out into the hallway. Leaving Soarynn and Coriolanus alone in a room for the last time.

“Here,” Soarynn says, sliding off her wedding ring, “you should have it back.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, doing his best to act nonchalant, “No, keep it.”

But Soarynn takes a step closer, a persistent look in her stormy blue eyes, “It was your mother’s, please, take it.”

She’s right. It was his mother’s wedding ring and it was the perfect fit for Soarynn’s ring finger.

He takes it from her and slides it into his pocket, “Thank you. Thank you for everything,” he says, hoping she picks up on what he really means.

She does. She does because she knows him like the back of her hand and she sighs, carding a hand through her hair, “We had a good run,” she decides, “good times, good memories. I hope we can keep it that way.”

Coriolanus smiles, a real smile, the first one in weeks, “I’d like that. I’ll see about scheduling a time to see Ceraphina.”

Soarynn slides her purse onto her shoulder, nodding, “Good, she’s been asking about you.”

He looks at her differently now. Soarynn is no longer a woman he’s expected to protect, to love and cherish and yet, he still plans on doing all of those things. Not out of guilt, but out of respect for what they had and what she’s given him.

She gave him eight amazing years, unconditional love and a family.

She gave it her all.

He sighs, this is it. No longer will they be known as the Snows. Death will not do them part.

“Take care of yourself,” he tells her even though he knows that Soarynn is more than capable of taking care of herself.

Soarynn smiles, “It was nice knowing you.”

He misses her already.

“It was nice knowing you too.”

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @wonderlandbound111 |

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ghostnotoast · 3 days ago

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I'm having withdrawal symptoms from waiting for the new episode to come out, and this has been buzzing around my head since this part came out (also I wanna talk about my wife Lily)

Relistening to this part twice made me cry I'm not even gonna lie but weirdly enough it made me think of the end of season 1 where John gets a taste of being the king for a split second but then chooses to go back to Arthur. After he returns, he says:

"But it was in that time in the hospital, that month alone. Trapped in this body without you, when something changed"

"I found meaning. I found that the challenges of life within the boundaries of death were not only acceptable, but could be meaningful. That without a purpose I could forge my own. Is that humanity?"

Don't get me wrong, I don't think it was Lily who was fully responsible for giving John humanity - if anything, that's the mistake Arthur makes in season 3 when comparing John to Yellow (which John calls him out for). It was Arthur who laid out the pieces, and Lily was basically the one to make it click.

Buttt I think reducing John's reason for humanity to only one thing is almost a disservice- because developing a sense of self is so much more complex than that.

It was Arthur's love, it was the stories and thoughts he would share with John, it was being in awe of seeing trees and nature again after so long of living in the dark, it was hearing music, it was listening to the radio, it was the joy he felt after they complished something and he was finally able to feel something other than fear, it was seeing the wraith help them, it was holding a cute baby and picturing her future as a pianist, it was seeing her mother and recognising that she had just lost something priceless, it was having to hold onto hope that anyone is capable of redemption, it was defending and having empathy for the widow despite what Arthur had said.

The last moment is paralleled in season 3 with their conversation about Yellow. Listening to all these makes me realise just how much Yellow missed out on.

Arthur no doubt played a massive role in helping John find humanity and meaning, but honesty? I don't know if purely being with Arthur is what made John who he is. John himself has a conscious and had to make decisions on his own and, on multiple occasions, fights Arthur about ideology with basically little to no outside influence (e.g, their infamous first divorce).

Despite all that though, I still do think Arthur was one of the biggest reasons, I mean just look at Yellow 😭 I'll write an entire essay about him one day

But this entire yap session was basically me trying to imagine what exactly was so special about that month at the hospital because let's be real if I were John I would go crazy BUT sometimes i just imagine John being there, in a hospital without Arthur, being able to do nothing but think

He thinks about the bright clear blue sky he saw, a bird that landed on the windowsill when they were at the library, he thinks about how alive this world is compared to where he came from, he thinks about the radio that's playing, he thinks about the piano, and then he thinks about Arthur

And I imagine he looks at Lily, at her tending to them, at her chatting to them, at her turning on the radio for them so they're not bored and even though people would call all these extra bits of care pointless - she does it anyway, and she does it for them, and John is there to witness this, and that's the moment where it clicks.

I imagine it sort of being like being moved back to see a finished puzzle and finally understanding what you've been making this entire time after spending so long up close looking at individual pieces

And I think that's what the witch didn't understand about John's story. Lily's care was the climax of John becoming John, and even though John acknowledges that for her it was probably another Tuesday - it still doesn't dampen the fondness and love he has for her, he just loves for the sake of it

#lily propaganda #i think about her daily #sappy john propaganda #i think if John got his own body he'd be the type to think about how much he loves every little thing #that man loves everything #i that this also shows through his descriptions to Arthur #they're just so *explodes*#you can tell how much he genuinely just loves looking at things #which is understandable he spent agesssss in the dark world #it reminds of that one potato comic where Oscar asks John who he would pray to and John says 'humanity'#i got so emotional #malevolent podcast #malevolent #lily malevolent #john doe malevolent #malevolent john doe #i could also get into John explaining how Arthur's story to Percival reminded him of Lily but this post is already so long 😭

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toasttt11 · 3 days ago

Text

allergy

October 24, 2024

Gemma looked out the window as the plane started to descend over Michigan, she was excited to play in Detroit for many reason, one she gets to finally play with Luke as this will be his first game back, two her parents and Luca will be at the games, three Luca was coming with some of his friends who she has missed and four she gets to see Ellen and Jim. The only downsides was she was leaving soon after the game so she would get a lot of time with her everyone but maybe like a hour and Adam wasn’t coming.

“You excited?” Luke nudged her softly making her look away from the window and at him.

Gemma immediately sat next to Luke when they got on the plane as Luke would be joining them for the road trip and she’s been wanting to sit next to him.

“To play with you definitely.” Gemma grinned looking extremely excited to play with Luke again, they only have just recently gotten to play with each other at Worlds over the summer.

Luke’s face shifted into a soft smile at her words, he was looking forward to play with her again, “I’m looking forward to that too.”

Luke nudged her softly making her laugh slightly and nudge him back.

“Is Adam coming?” Luke asked with a curious look but he had small look in his eyes that Gemma didn’t know what it was.

“No, he couldn’t come.” Gemma smiled tightly as she really is missing her brother and hasn’t seen him in quite a while.

“I’m sorry.” Luke softly mumbled wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he understood wanting your older brothers at your games but they couldn’t, he had a lot of games that he wished Jack or Quinn could’ve came to.

“It’s okay.” Gemma mumbled back understanding why Adam can’t come but she still missed him.

Gemma leaned her head on Luke’s shoulder till the plane landed and they could start getting off the plane and into the bus.

Gemma sat next to Luke again on the bus as the bus was loaded up and then they headed to the rink and they would end up being a bit earlier than normal then they are for warm up’s.

Gemma was wearing a white suit that had purple flowers scattered across the suit and purple loafers.

The team arrived quite earlier to the arena so they were having team lunch at the rink before they started warming up later.

Gemma plopped down with Luke next to her and Jack stole the other spot next to her and Brett sat down next to Luke, Jesper, Jonas, Dougie and Nico on the other side of the table.

The eight at the table waited for the rest of their teammates to get up and get their food before they got up and got their food too.

Gemma made a very excited sound as she saw spring rolls as they at some of her favorite food ever making Luke laugh fondly as he watched her and she grabbed a few putting them on her plate.

Gemma headed back to the table with Luke and they were the last back and Gemma had such an excited smile as she picked up a spring roll and she was about to take a bite but frowned smelling something.

“Luke.” Gemma whispered trying to only catch Luke’s attention but most do the table looked over, “Can you test it?” Gemma whispered, she has a very bad allergy with peanuts and she can kinda smell peanut butter in the spring rolls.

Luke is really the only one who knows about her allergy besides the devils chefs who didn’t travel with them today and the trainers know.

Luke immediately grabbed the spring room not wanting her holding it if it has peanuts and he took a bite immediately tasting peanuts in the sauce, he quickly grabbed the springs rolls off Gemma’s plate.

Gemma let out a long disappointed sigh seeing Luke taking the spring rolls knowing what it means.

“Wait why can’t you eat them?” Jack looked confused and he frowned at Gemma’s disappointed face.

“It has peanuts.” Gemma spoke dejectedly as she just wanted spring rolls.

“Are you allergic?” Nico asked with a sad frown, he felt terrible he didn’t know one of his teammates had an allergy especially as she is a rookie and he’s know her for two months now.

“Yeah mostly everything bothers me but airborne.” Gemma explained to the boys at the table, she didn’t really bring up her allergy often and she didn’t check the food she grabbed because she has gotten so use to the devils chefs knowing she can’t have peanuts and if there’s peanuts on something they label it.

Brett got up from the table and walked away as the rest of the body asked more about her allergy.

Brett came back a few minutes later with a plate in his hand and handed it to Gemma, “Peanut free spring rolls.” Brett gave her a kind smile, he had noticed that she was very happy about the spring rolls before the peanuts and he saw the chef making more at the kitchen so asked him to not put any sauce on them.

Gemma’s whole face lite up in a beaming smile, “Thank you!” Gemma immediately started eating a spring roll humming happily as she munched on it.

Gemma finished lunch and sat around for a little while just talking with a lot of her teammates before they all started getting ready for warm ups.

Gemma was sitting in her stall after warming up with team and she put her hair in a low ponytail and spit the ponytail into two braids with her red ribbons tied on the ends.

She was chewing on a pregame snack when Keefe walked in, “Alright we have a special guest for the line up today.” He had a mischievous smile as he glanced at Gemma making her eyes furrow and Luke grinned knowing what it was as he planned the person to come with Nico.

“You can come in.” Keefe called out and Adam walked in with Gemma’s Devils jersey on.

Gemma’s jaw dropped as she saw her brother walk into the room.

Adam grinned at her shocked look, “If you couldn’t tell by the jersey i’m here for Gemma.” Adam proudly showed off the jersey he had on making the boys all cheer and clap.

“Starting on right wing Bratt! Starting on center Jack and starting on left wing Gemma!!!” Adam announced the starting offensive line making the whole cheer and clap.

“On defense on the left side Hughesy and the right side Pesce!” The room cheered even louder for the pair for their first game back.

“And in the goal Markstrom!”

Gemma immediately got up once Adam was done and quickly hugged her brother, “Hey Adamo.” Gemma mumbled in italian.

“Little sister.” Adam cooed back in italian, it was one of his favorite things about being with family was speaking in their native language.

“I didn’t know you were coming?” Gemma looked confused as Adam told her he count come.

“Lukey helped me surprise you.” Adam told her making her nod, “Go play your game i’ll see you after.” Adam pressed a kiss to her forehead and she waved bye as he walked out.

“You speak Italian!!” Nate looked flabbergasted as the whole room heard her speaking Italian.

“My family is from Italy?” Gemma replied back titling her head confused.

“Oh.” Dawson grimaced realizing it was kinda obvious.

“Another multi language speaker in the room.” Timo patted her shoulder with a proud grin as she walked by to Luke’s stall.

“Thank you.” Gemma gave him a thankful look knowing he helped Adam surprise her.

“Course Emmie.” Luke smiled back.

Gemma headed to the ice and warmed up before the game started.

Gemma looked up at the stands and saw her family, some of her brothers friends and Ellen and Jim Hughes in the stands all together, she wave up at them as Jack and Luke skated over and waved at their parents and Luke’s friends.

The game started and half way in the first half of the period Gemma passed the puck to Nico during the penalty play and he scored the first goal of the game.

The red wings quickly scored their first goal and in thirty seconds later they scored their second too.

Second period started and Luke passed the puck up the ice to Gemma and Gemma quickly skated around the defenseman and easily getting the puck into the goal.

Gemma beamed quickly skating to Luke and hugging him as he got his first point of the season.

Third period started and the red wings scored again and Nico scored again on the power play with Gemma and Jack assisting.

It was tied 3-3 getting close to the end of the third period when the red wings scored again.

With thirty seconds left in the game the red wings player wrapped around the empty net and hit the puck at the goal just as Gemma got there trying to stop the goal and he slammed into her once the puck went into the goal knocking her harshly to the ice.

Michael Rasmussen stood over Gemma after he smacked her to the ground and started chirping her not letting her get up. He kept his legs around her stomach looking down at her making extremely uncomfortable especially with what he was saying to her.

Timo immediately was skating over and shoved the player away from Gemma and slamming him into the boards

Jack quickly went to Gemma as Stefan quickly skated in front of Jack and Gemma standing protectively in front of them as the other red wing players came closer.

Gemma winced as she tried to move off her back, she got rattled good hitting the ice that hard and it didn’t feel good. Jack rested a hand on her shoulder helping her slowly sit up as the medical trainers came out to her after she didn’t get up right away.

Gemma slowly stood up with the help of Jack and Stefan, it didn’t feel like she injured anything but her whole back was already getting sore.

Gemma headed to the bench with Jack holding her and even if she said she was fine and Stefan staying close by with the trainers.

Keefe told her to go down the tunnel to get checked as there was only thirty seconds and gave her a stern glance when she tried to argue.

Gemma gave Luke a reassuring nod as she saw his worry and headed down the tunnel with the medical team, she had a quick exam and was quickly cleared of no injury just taking it easy and heat her back later.

Gemma walked into the locker room and the boys were already all in there and she reassured all of them she was fine and she quickly headed to the shower wanting to be with her family before they have to leave.

Gemma put her suit back on and brushed our her wet hair and grabbed her things and quickly looked at her phone seeing a lot of worried texts from Macklin and quickly sent him a text she was okay before seeing Jack and Luke just finished up too and she walked out with them seeing both of their families and friend waiting together.

Gemma slowly walked to her brothers hugging them both at the same time as they gingerly hugged her back seeing her hit the ice good.

“You played awesome.” Adam proudly smiled at his baby sister as they pulled back ruffling her wet hair slightly.

“Amazing.” Luca smiled proudly.

Gemma saw her mom was waiting for hug looking worried and she hugged her, “I’m fine Mama.” Gemma softly whispered making her mom nod softly.

Gemma hugged her dad after she hugged her mom.

“Mrs. Hughes!” Gemma beamed as she walked over to Ellen and Jim, Ellen has always been in awe of Ellen and loves watching old games of Ellen playing.

“Gemma.” Ellen smiled fondly at the young girl, “How many times have i told you to call me Ellen.”

“A lot?” Gemma sheepishly answered as Ellen hugged her softly.

Gemma waved softly as Jim sharing a nod and smile with him.

“Little Fants!” Nick grinned as she walked over to the Umich boys, he tossed an arm over her shoulder giving her a side hug.

“Hi Molds.” Gemma softly spoke to her old teammate.

Gemma unfortunately only got a few minutes with her friends and family before she had to head to the bus.

“I’ll see you thanksgiving.” Gemma mumbled as her mom hugged her as tightly as possible with her sore back.

“I know.” Julia smiled bittersweet and cupped her daughter’s cheek looking at her proudly and kissed her forehead.

Gemma said bye to her family and friends and leaned into Jack’s side as they walked to the bus.

Gemma let out a small sigh as they walked away, she now just wanted to get home to Macklin and luckily he would be home when she got home as he had a home game today.

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samthegreenapologist · 2 days ago

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: background alicole, manipulation, pnv!sex , Oral F receiving, doggystyle, Targaryen princess OC, Criston’s depressed inner thoughts, toxic alicole relationship, sad ending

Word Count: 3.5k

“Lord hand?” The Queen’s strained voice called out in his direction. It took the knight a moment to realize that she was speaking to him. He still was not completely wrapped his mind around the position that Aegon had bestowed upon him. He was hardly used to even sitting at this table with the small council let alone being asked his opinion on a topic. Alicent noted his dazed expression right away when he met her urging gaze and restated her sentiment.

“The princess has been increasingly restless, perhaps it is best we allow her passage home.”

He understood now why the queen was calling for his opinion, she wanted his support. That had been something he had always given to her without hesitation or any concern for the scrutiny he might face for following her commands fully. She was his Queen, he had sworn to protect her, to serve her… and in her candle lit chambers kissing her flesh he had silently sworn to love her as well.

“Rhaenyra will only feel we are taking another child from her,” The men around the table were grumbling, her words were not swaying their opinions. “Perhaps sending her home would grant us the ability to speak reason with Rhaenyra? It could avoid further escalation.”

The other lords were looking to him for comment, for a decision on this matter. To let him be the one to cast aside the Queen Regents illogical suggestions.

“It would give her cause access to another dragon.”

He did not look at the Queen as he stomped down her suggestion by stating the obvious. He did not care to see her big brown eyes shocked from this action, that he knew she would view as a betrayal. But he did not think she had much of a right to be so irritated with him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to continuously support somebody he felt was not making intelligent choices and who did not show any indication that she even had a small level of appreciation for the sacrifice and attention he had shown to her for years. People snickered at his dedication to her and he was beginning to feel she treated him as a toy, especially as of late now that she was bitter about her life and position of fleeting power. She expected him to follow her like a dog, piping in to support her claims during the day and scurrying into her chambers once the hour of the bat arrived. There just long enough for her to ride atop his lap or plant herself over his mouth…just to reach her release and then fuss about the hour and how these actions were wrong and send him on his way with a scolding.

Ser Criston was unable to stop the cyclical thoughts about his frustration regarding the queen as he took the steps in the tower two at a time, his eyes focused up the spiraling steps towards the chambers the princess had been confined to for moons now.

"Princess,"

His knock upon the hard oak door had her rising from her spot by the small window at once and the simple gown she chose to wear most days flowed back down over her stocking covered feet just as the Knight entered. She stayed silent as he placed his helmet on the small table beside the doorway, finding it best to let him guide these discussions. In the past he had simply left her alone if she started up right away with the begging or weeping to be sent home, free from this chambers and far from the Red Keep.

“We discussed the performances at night, have we not? The carrying on only makes the council feel you would scorn us all should you be allowed leave.” They had spoken of this many times before, she claimed her desire was just to go home and mourn her brother with her family insisting that she wanted no part in this war.

“Yes My Lord.” She had made sure to call him that since he began appearing with the necklace of hands around his neck. It did her no good to disrespect his position especially when she knew he had been her mothers sworn shield. Her mother had selected his name to be written in the book so surely he was a good knight, an honorable man. He could help her…at least that was what she prayed for and what she had begun to believe was true since he initially mentioned the idea of being able to slip her out in the night.

Criston Cole looked to the small window for a moment as he sighed, weight dropping from his shoulders as the air left his lungs. This room was a respite for him, though it was a cage for her.

“I am doing what I can,” he lied stepping a bit closer to her “But you must play your part too, the sweet girl.” he reminded and his eyes seem to notice the simplicity of her gown, practically just a nightgown with the addition of cloth stocking on her feet to keep them warm against the cold stone floor. Her light lilac colored eyes flickered up at him, some hope in them given his comments.

“Forgive me,” she shook her head, scolding herself some. “It just…it becomes so lonely when you do not visit, my days melt together. I could not sleep.” she explained to him her pale hand coming up to delicately touch his chest plate, fingers light as if he could feel her touch even over all the armor.

“You’ve missed my company?” His voice’s stiffness almost faltered and gave away how desperately he had needed to hear that. Affirmation that she needed him, that she looked forward to his company. It made something deep within him stir.

She simply nodded and rose up onto the tips of her toes to make her tall enough to kiss his cheek just above where his beard began to sprout on his face. The lord hand did not take a moment to reflect on the fact that he was the only company she ever got other than the maids bringing her necessities and coming to help her bathe on occasion. Aemond, the reason she had been here in the first place certainly did not come to her chamber. He likely felt relieved that this conflict had kept their betrothal from moving forward. Criston was the only person who seemed to care to speak to her and so she had realized quickly that he was who she needed to convince to free her.

“You look lovely” His hand came to hold her cheek, the leather of his glove cool on her face, keeping her close to him. A fondness had developed. Performative at first on her part but true closeness had developed due to the contact and sprinklings of hope he gave to her.

Alicent did not let him compliment her, she only wanted his mouth on her cunt, or his cock to ride. The queen had not kissed him at all the last few times he had been in her rooms after dark. She simply seeked his company for self satisfaction and then looked at him with disgust or shame. It made him feel like a whore.

Used.

“The queen spoke of releasing you,” a truth. “I’m getting through to her,” a lie that he did not dwell on because he had pressed his lips to her jaw and bit at her some before soothing the flesh with a kiss.

“I always had faith you would.”

The airness that developed so quickly in her voice made the knight smirk slightly as he began to remove his armour. They had done this enough times now that she knew how to help him with the latches and knots so he was free of the hard material in a short time. She could see how hard he was breathing now that that armour was pulled away, with it the silver chain of hands too, revealing only his hairy bare chest and golden pendant. She reached to fiddle with the chain but his hands had found her waist and pushed her back until she could feel the hardness of the wall behind her. It was her chest turn to pound.

“I do not want you to feel so neglected you weep at night.” he said simply. As if bedding her now was a favor he did exclusively for her. Perhaps it was easier for him to imagine it that way. That he was helping her, helping her with all of this. Pleasure for company and empty promises for peace of mind?

Her eyebrows raised up at the front and pinched together in the most entrancing way when he would squeeze at her sides. She was not ashamed of his touch, she lavished in the moment of connection. Alicent was the Queen Dowager, but she could be his princess.

“Then do not neglect me”

Gods, She has so much of the quick wit her mother had. To avoid that thought he let his hands explore up her bodice and grope at her chest as his face dropped down to kiss upon her collar bones, his nose settled in the crook of her neck taking in her soft scent.

Criston was breathing hard. The air puffing out over her neck and warming her flesh a great deal as his hands pulled at the back of the gown.

“Criston-“ she wanted to ask if he was alright, but his lips silenced her right away. She should be used to the intensity and eagerness he always had when he came up for a visit, but it always seemed to increase in intensity.

The tenseness of his shoulders made it so her fingertip could barely push into the skin when she grasped onto him so she knew he was quite a bit stressed, more than normal. Perhaps something that happened in the war? She wanted nothing more than to ask but he would get closed off if she questioned what was happening to much…weary likely that this was all some attempt at acquiring information for her mother.

He was completely lost in her chest now, his large hand was keeping her firmly down against the windowsill so his face could enjoy her breasts. Mouthing freely at her flesh until he lapped at her nipple, warming one before moving to the next and as soon as he heard her soft breathy whimper he bit down.

“Whining at night…” he huffed out a bit breathless as he regrettably pulled back from her chest “does my princess need her knight every evening?” He growled looking down at her and his hand slid up her soft sides feeling her skin shift with his hand until his thumb was rubbing at the thin column of her neck.

“Can you spare that time for me?” Her chin raised up and her heart pounded. That answer clearly pleased him because he had started to rut himself against her lower half. Harshly enough that she needed to wrap her legs around him so she was not pressed against the glass of the window too much. He couldn’t help but seek more of her after a question like that. She needed him, she appreciated that he was busy but she clearly wanted to be selfish and ask for his company more. She was the opposite of Alicent…she valued him.

The both of them needed connection and hope enough that they could use one another for these small moments without having to reflect on the greater actions at play. She could imagine her white knight would kiss her and set her free and he could pretend to be the longed for lover that saves her.

Criston's trousers were shoved down by his own hand when he let her up so she could move to the bed and before he could reach her he was treated to a delicious show of her pale tights being bared to him as the stockings were removed. He all but growled at the sight. She was prettier than her mother had been at this age and so much more appreciative. His thick cock was bobbing with anticipation at the view of her and he made an audible noise of need when he caught a glimpse of the silver swatch of hair against her pink cunny.

She was stretched for him by this point and he found a great bit of pleasure in seeing the small gape she had. He would have a lasting impact…her body would not be able to forget he had been there and in a world where his lovers…the women he worshiped casted him aside he needed to know that she wouldn’t be able to forget how he had fucked her…how he had made her feel. That would not fade like bruises from overzealous kisses on a neck. Their chest slid together as he came down overtop of her his hips nestled between her spread thighs and they kissed one another for a long while.

His golden pendant and some of the chain pooled in the valley between her breasts while his shaft slid between her folds, his tip reddened with blood bumped at her tender bud as he readied her, waiting to feel she was damp enough to take him. She did not rush him, there was no fast rump between meetings nor hushed encounters late at night when the maids left. He had her all to himself here, he was the one in charge. Most times he had her suckle at his cock to make it wet but on days when her release was mentioned he’d opt to kiss her, and hold her like this…perhaps to convince himself that she enjoyed this closeness enough that he was justified in keeping her here for these selfish reasons.

When her whimpers turned into outright moans he knew she was ready. That point was punctuated by the fact that her pussy had swelled and gotten heated…she was so very reactive to him. He fought the urge to lap at her cunt…to taste the pleasure that was leaking from her. He would save that to help her reach her peak. He always ensured she came, no matter how roughly he took her he did still want her to experience that numbing bliss. His hands easily lifted her up, grabbing her wide bottom and placing a few kisses at the shell of her ear.

“Turn around”

She yelped at the bite that accompanied his demand and compiled instantly. Crumbling back down to the bed but this time on her stomach for him. It took three swats to her ass and a solid pinch to her milky thighs for her to raise her butt up and open her knees for him. The words of praise he gave her were drowned out by the loud gasp pulled from her lips because of how abruptly he had entered her. His cock had been lined up expertly so with a bit of pressure he was able to seat himself fully into her. He swore Targaryens had the warmers cores, it drove him mad and had him gripping onto her hips harder than he needed to. Her forehead was pressed down against the quilt on the bed and she panted against the fabric as Ser Criston pulled his hips back and then shoved them back towards her at a rapid pace with quite a bit of force. He outright growled when he realized that her noises were being muffled by the fabric so he sent one hand up her back to the nape of her neck and let his fingers slide against her scalp, her silky silver hair filling in the spaces between his fingers before he pulled his hands back to lift her face up.

“Ahh! Gods Ser-mmm,” she was devolving to incoherence…which he quite liked. He loved that he pushed her to a point where she could not keep herself buttoned up. She let go, not bashful of the noises that she made, certainly not concerned about the lewd sound that was occurring between his pelvis and her cunt. The wet slapping would be enough for anybody to know what was occurring within these walls. But she was his princess…he had been tasked at handling her, just him. Feeling how she cried out and her hips twitched against his hands made him pull her completely up so her back was to his chest and with a panting breath he growled into her ear.

“You’re mine” he told her, with no room for debate in his tone.

When her core began to clench around him and his tip throbbed within her he did seem to sober up enough to realize he needed to remove himself from her. Gods know he wanted to fill her, wanted to see his seed drip down her swollen folds. But then things would be ruined if she was with child, people would notice and she wouldn’t be his princess in the tower anymore. So he panted as he mustered up all his good sense and pulled himself out. She knew to stay in her spot, her cunt on display for him and he could see her small breasts hanging just slightly down below her stomach as she caught her breath and her core constricted over and over around nothingness while he fisted his cock. Making long strokes and groaning quite vocally as his sensitive tip was stimulated by his foreskin moving up and down.

“Let me-“ the princess began, about to suggest she suckle at him, but his hand, the delicious view and her concern for his own pleasure sent him over the edge and the knight's thighs trembled as his seed ended up splayed across her slightly reddened bottom.

“Seven hells.”

Both of their panting was filling the air for a minute or so while he rubbed his hand up and down the side of her leg and circled her hip bone. Then once he regained enough air in his lungs he released her hair from his hand and started to lean his head down to press a kiss to her engorged clit and felt how she was twitching. It wouldn’t take much to get her to her peak. It was easy to urge her into her back, and instantly he braced his hands on the underside of her knees and pushed her legs towards her upper body which opened her up completely to him.

“We can’t have you whining tonight princess….” He murmured with a smirk as he ducked down and licked a swatch over her dripping core. She was nodded down at him quickly.

“I w-won’t.” She swore to him raising her hips up as much as she could in this position and he praised her promise by doubling down on his efforts and pushing his greedy tongue into her core savoring the taste as his nose nudged over and over at the underside of her clit until she had begun to clench against him once more. His grunts and breath only made for vibrations that sent her further into overstimulation. The princess whimpers turned into trembling moans again. She cried out, her stomach sucking in as she reached her peak and then puffing out as she rutted once more against his face before her muscles went limp.

He pulled his face back and wiped his hand over his mouth and some of his beard, a breathless grin on his face as he took in her weakened state. She clutched to him after her release and he lavished in these moments. When she held to him, not one thought in her mind to push him from the room like Alicent always did.

“I will miss this.” She was still catching her breath as he wrapped her up against his chest. The comment made Criston nod stiffly and hold her a bit tighter.

“As will I princess.” She looked up at him, her pale lilac eyes filled again with hope. He could not crush her “Soon you will return home, let me arrange a few more things.” He lied as she smiled and gently fiddled with the chain of his necklace as she settled against him, rest coming easy to her due to the comfort of those vows.

Ser Criston Cole would not have to choose between his own self interest and being her hero for in a weeks time the marcher would set course for Harrenhall. He would not feel her soft flesh again, not see her eyes so desperate to be free, he would not ever pick up on the soft undertone of sadness in her voice as she bid him a goodbye and luck on his day of activities. He would never need to lie to his princess again for he would not return to the red keep and she would never leave it.

#smut #criston cole #criston x reader #Criston Cole Smut #hotd fanfic #ser criston cole #hotd smut

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